fellow  Creek 


umor. 


William  j.  SSurtocher. 


I     LI 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
C/  •!.!. 

!       SAN  DIEGO       • 


YELLOW  CREEK  HUMOR 

A  BOOK   OF   BURTSCHER   DROLLERIES 


BY 
WILLIAM  J.  BURTSCHER 


BALTIMORE,   MD.,   U.  8.  A. 


COPYRIGHT,    1909,  BY 
WILLIAM  J.  BURTSCHER 


YELLOW  CREEK  HUMOR. 

Yellow  Creek  is  a  lively  little  stream,  which  never  runs 
dry.  May  this  be  true  of  Yellow  Creek  Humor.  For  a  copy 
attach  your  address  to  a  one-dollar  bill  and  send  it  to  the 
author  at  Ruskin,  Tenn. 


Oh,  Yellow  Creek! 

All  night  I  dream  of  thee, 

All  day  I  drink  of  thee! 

Purling,  babbling  brook! 

Cleanse  and  stveeten  all  my  book! 


Dedicated 

to 

My  Wife 

Who  sometimes  laughs 
at  my  humor, 

Not 
Because  IT  is  good 

But 
Because  SHE  is  good. 


A  PRAYER. 

I  thank  thee,  O  Lord,  that  I  am  like  other  men,  not  better 
nor  worse;  that  I  can  understand  them  by  studying  myself, 
and  that  I  will  know  what  is  in  me  if  I  seek  to  know  more 
of  thee,  for  thou  dwellest  in  me.  Where  other  men  have 
fallen  I  may  fall ;  therefore  I  will  not  follow  the  weak  except 
to  give  them  strength,  and  I  will  not  allow  my  neighbor  to 
drift  from  thee,  lest  I  drift  with  him,  I  thank  thee  that  I 
have  been  bad  enough  to  feel  for  the  sinner,  and  that  now, 
with  thy  help,  I  am  good  enough  to  feel  a  desire  for  the 
highest  good.  I  thank  thee  that  I  am  as  I  am,  and  that 
everything  about  me  is  as  it  is. 

I  pray,  O  Lord,  that  thou  wouldst  hear  my  prayer.  Give 
me  more  wisdom,  that  I  may  apply  it  to  the  interpretation  of 
thy  truth ;  more  friends,  that  I  may  love  them  and  be  loved 
by  them;  more  wealth,  that  I  may  be  able  to  pay  more  for 
the  support  of  the  gospel ;  and  more  grace,  that  I  may  pos- 
sess all  I  profess,  and  that  I  may  not  be  ashamed  to  profess 
all  I  possess. 

Make  me  an  optimist.  Help  me  to  practice  what  thy  min- 
isters preach.  Help  me  to  preach  what  thy  saints, practice. 
Help  me  to  go  about  doing  good.  In  His  name ;  Amen. 


CREDIT. 

Nearly  all  of  the  material  of  which  this  book  is  composed 
originally  appeared  in  the  following  publications : 

Taylor-Trotwood  Magazine,  Nashville,  Tenn. 

Business  Magazine,  Knoxville,  Tenn. 

Home  Herald,  Chicago,  111. 

Epworth  Era,  Nashville,  Tenn. 

The  Searchlight,  Ruskin,  Tenn. 

The  Lyceumite,  Chicago,  111. 

The  Lyceum  World,  Indianapolis,  Indiana. 

Farm  and  Fireside,  Springfield,  Ohio. 

Farm  News,  Springfield,  Ohio. 

Farm  Journal,  Philadelphia,  Penna. 

Farm  Life,  Chicago,  111. 

Farm  and  Ranch,  Dallas,  Tex. 


CONTENTS. 

SKETCHES.  PAGE 

The  Yellow  Creek  Chautauqua. 

First  Day — Gillilan  from  Funnyland II 

Second  Day — Funshine  Hawks 13 

Third  Day — Opie  Read 16 

Fourth  Day— Arthur  E.  Cringle 18 

Old  Uncle  Deb. 

Uncle  Deb  and  His  Cane 22 

Uncle  Deb  and  Mother  Goose 26 

Uncle  Deb  Objects 28 

A  Negro  Barbecue 29 

Uncle  Deb  on  Ghosts 30 

Other  Sketches. 

Lazy  Bill  Adkins 32 

Nineteen-Ought-Eight,  Ten  Rings 33 

A  Man  and  His  Dog 35 

A  Boy  and  His  Hobby 36 

The  Legend  of  Big  Cave 37 

The  Political  Record  of  Squire  Joines 38 

The  Y.  C.  Railroad 40 

The  Letters  of  Cal.  F.  Head 43 

YELLOW  CREEK  PHILOSOPHY 47 

RHYMES  AND  JINGLES. 

Being  Identified   59 

On  a  Two-cent  Fare 61 

Let  'er  Go ! 62 

Corn  Shuckin'  Time 63 

Childhood's  Springtime   64 

Browning    65 

On  Walking 68 

The  Laugh-making  Man 68 

The  Optimistic  Philosopher 69 

Ante-Dinner  Philosophy    70 

Rhyme  of  a  Dozen 71 

How  to  Tell  the  News 72 

9 


Just  Thinking  73 

A  Tune  to  Whistle 73 

Living  Like  a  White  Man 73 

Learn  to  Laugh j .  74 

THE  YELLOW  CREEK  HUMORIST  IN  PUBLIC. 

A  New  Name  for  "  Sunshine  "  Hawks 76 

Introducing  Hal  Merton 76 

He  Makes  Resolutions 77 

He  Tells  a  Story 78 

As  a  Lecture-Entertainer 78 

Incidents  of  His  First  Lecture  Tour 79 

Heard  in  His  Lectures 84 

His  Optimism  91 

JOKES. 

Would  go  North 93 

Indeed    93 

The  Way  of  the  Liar 94 

On  the  Wrong  Ladder 94 

Everybody  Remained  but  Father 95 

Why  He  Didn't  Go  to  School 96 

Didn't  Mean  to  Support  Him 96 

Thot  Papa  Would  be  'Fraid 96 

Education  in  Travel 97 

Would  Have  Been  a  Joke  on  the  Company 97 

Cal.  F.  Head  at  the  Postoffice 98 

Another  Sham  98 

Told  the  Truth 99 

Financially   Speaking    100 

Voting  on  Yellow  Creek 101 

Bill  Adkins  Buys  Socks 102 

Thought  He  Was  in  a  Trance 102 

The  Yellow  Creek  Walking  Club 103 

Night-waking     103 

When  the  Moon  Shines 103 

Matthew  8 : 32  104 

Bill  Adkins  as  a  Patriot 104 

Good  Philosophy   105 

Take  a  Look 105 

Sunshine   105 

Another   Burtscher   Introduction 106 

How  to  Read  Yellow  Creek  Humor 107 

10 


SKETCHES. 
THE  YELLOW  CREEK  CHAUTAUOJJA. 

A  series  of  sketches  showing  what  happened  to  real  men 
at  an  imaginary  Chautauqua. 

FIRST  DAY— ATTRACTION,  STRICKLAND  W. 
GILLILAN  FROM  FUNNYLAND. 

I  was  in  the  Yellow  Creek  country  on  business  for  a  day. 
John  Sharp  told  me  that  they  were  having  their  first  Chau- 
tauqua, that  it  would  begin  that  night  at  eight  o'clock,  and 
that  the  attraction  was  "  one  o'  them  funny  fellers."  So  I 
promised  to  remain  until  morning. 

Sharp  and  I  reached  the  Chautauqua  grounds  several 
minutes  late.  As  we  entered,  the  gate  keeper,  an  unsophis- 
ticated lad  of  about  eighteen  years,  whispered  to  me: 
"  Mister,  you'd  better  git  a  season  ticket,  an'  buy  it  from 
Susie  Jones — she's  my  girl." 

The  chairman  came  forward.  His  manner  seemed  to  sug- 
gest that  he  "  hated  mighty  bad  to  do  it,  but  I've  put  it  off  as 
long  as  I  can." 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  began  the  chairman.  There  was 
a  second's  pause  which  lasted  ten  minutes. 

"  Ain't  he  awkward,  tho !  "  I  heard  the  girl  in  front  whis- 
per to  her  beau. 

"  As  manager,"  continued  the  chairman,  "  of  this  here 
Chawtalker,  it  affords  me  every  kind  of  pleasure  that  I  can 
subscribe  in  introducing  to  a  Yellow  Creek  audience  Mr. 
Strickland  W.  Gillilan  from  Funnyland." 

"  I  don't  see  the  man,"  I  remarked  to  Sharp. 

2  II 


"  Nor  do  I  neither,"  returned  Sharp. 

"  He  was  to  speak  from  this  platform  at  eight  o'clock," 
the  chairman  went  on.  "  It  is  eight-fifteen  now.  'Squire 
Joines  tells  me  that  the  man  went  to  bed  at  his  house  this 
afternoon,  as  he'd  been  on  a  long  jump  gettin'  here,  which 
I  don't  know  what  he  means  by  it,  but  he  said  he  hadn't  been 
used  to  feather  beds  in  hotels,  and  so  he  overslept  hisself. 
He  has  just  now  woke  and  will  git  here  in  half  an  hour, 
prompt.  So,  ladies  and  gentlemen — " 

The  young  man  we  had  seen  at  the  gate  rushed  on  the 
platform,  interrupting  the  speaker : 

"  Bill  Chairman,  must  I  make  'em  show  their  tickets  as 
they  go  out,  too  ?  "  asked  the  gate  keeper. 

"  Of  course  not,"  yelled  the  chairman.  "  Who  wants  to 
go  out,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  A  lot  on  'em." 

"  Well,  don't  let  'em  go.  The  Funnyman'll  be  here  'fore 
long." 

The  chairman  took  a  drink  of  Yellow  Creek  water,  and 
rubbing  his  forehead  with  a  red  handkerchief,  continued, 
"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  as  I  was  a-saying  before  Jimmie 
interrupted  me,  this  man  Gillilan  will  be  here  in  half  an 
hour,  and  as  the  introduction  which  I  have  prepared  for  this 
auspicious  occasion  is  just  half  an  hour  long,  all  typewritten, 
at  that,  I  will  now  begin  to  introduce  him,  so  that  I'll  be  thru 
by  the  time  he  gits  here." 

The  speaker  took  a  manuscript  out  of  his  pocket  (which, 
by  the  way,  was  rolled)  and  placed  it  on  a  table  before  him. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began  for  the  severalst  time, 
"  the  happy  moment  has  come.  It  affords  me  as  many  pleas- 
ures as  there  are  colors  in  the  rainbow  to  introduce  him.  He 
is  a  humorist,  and  that's  what  we  do  want  at  this  Chaw- 
talker.  And  since  he's  a  humorist  we  must  laugh.  Ladies 
and  gentlemen,  watch  Mr.  Gillilan  like  a  hawk,  and  when 
he  laughs,  you  laugh,  and  when  he  keeps  a  sober  face,  you 

12 


keep  a  sober  face.  Humor,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  a  funny 
thing—" 

The  gate  keeper  rushed  on  the  platform  for  the  second 
time.  "  Bill  Chairman,"  he  blurted  out,  "  there's  a  man  out 
there  that  ain't  got  no  ticket,  and  he's  in  an  awful  hurry  t' 
git  in  here  an'  said  he  jist  had  t'  git  in  here  at  once,  an'  that 
it  was  all  right  with  you,  but  I  told  him  that  you  told  me  not 
t'  let  nobody  in  that  didn't  have  no  ticket  an'  so  I  couldn't 
let  him  in." 

"  What  kind  of  a  looking  man  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  chairman. 

"  He  is  a  pretty  sort  of  a  feller,  sort  o'  tall  like,  with  a  fine 
white  shirt  on,  and  a  funny  coat  and  vest,  and — " 

"  Why,  you  dunce,  that's  the  man  I  am  introducin',  that's 
Mr.  Gillilan.  Let  him  in  right  away." 

When  Mr.  Gillilan  came  on  the  floor  the  girl  in  front 
whispered  to  her  beau,  "  Well,  did  you  ever.  He's  awk- 
warder'n  Bill  Chairman,  ain't  he  ?  " 

Mr.  Gillilan  began,  "  My  dear  friends — and  those  I  met 
at  the  gate  on  their  way  home." 

As  I  learned  that  Sunshine  Hawks  was  to  be  there  the 
next  night  I  promised  Sharp  to  remain  another  day. 

SECOND  DAY— ATTRACTION,  FUNSHINE 

HAWKS. 

The  Yellow  Creek  Chautauqua  Assembly,  I  found,  did  not 
assemble  during  the  day.  John  Sharp  explained  that  all  the 
Yellow  Creek  farmers  had  been  thrown  behind  with  their 
work  on  account  of  so  much  rain,  and  that  one  program  a 
day  was  about  all  they  cared  for  anyhow. 

"  If  we  could  get  any  of  these  here  speakers  here  early  in 
the  day  we'd  put  'em  to  work  in  the  field,"  he  explained  to 
me  at  the  breakfast  table. 

"  What  would  you  have  Mr.  Hawks  do,  for  instance,  if 
he  should  get  here  early  to-day  ?  "  I  asked.  "  You  know 
Mr.  Hawks  is  an  old  man." 

13 


"  We'd  have  him  pack  water,  I  reckon." 

We  reached  the  Chautauqua  grounds  on  time — a  few 
minutes  before  eight.  My  unsophisticated  friend,  the  door- 
keeper, took  my  quarter,  rather  reluctantly.  He  remarked, 
as  I  passed  him : 

"  Ain't  you  goin'  t'  buy  a  season  ticket  ?  Susie  Jones  has 
still  got  some  left.  She's  my  girl." 

"  This  will  probably  be  my  last  day  here,"  I  explained. 

As  we  seated  ourselves  somewhere  near  the  front  Bill 
Chairman  appeared  on  the  platform,  a  little  bolder  and  a 
little  more  at  home  than  the  night  before. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began — he  could  say  that  as 
well  as  anybody — "  this  is  the  second  day  of  this  here  Chaw- 
talker.  The  first  day  was  a  big  success,  and  I  will  say  that 
those  who  went  home  before  the  program  began  last  night 
have  come  up  to  me  to-day  and  apologized.  We  are  to  have 
with  us  to-night,  I  am  glad  to  say,  the  famous  Funshine 
Hawks.  He  is  another  humorist,  and  that,  you  know,  is 
what  we  do  want  at  this  here  Chawtalker.  I  am  sorry  to 
tell  you  all  that  Mr.  Hawks  met  with  a  slight  accident 
coming  out  here  a  while  ago.  When  they  were  crossing 
Yellow  Creek  the  horses  got  scared  at  some  boys  that  were 
in  swimming,  which  they  hadn't  ought  to  have  been  doing, 
and  upset  the  rig,  giving  them  all  a  ducking.  Mr.  Hawks, 
naturally,  got  all  his  clothes  wet,  and  not  having  another 
suit  with  him,  and  it  only  being  a  few  minutes  until  time 
for  him  to  begin  with  his  lecture  on  Sunshine  and  Shadow 
so  that  the  clothes  couldn't  dry,  he  was  obliged  to  borrow 
some.  Well,  nobody  around  Yellow  Creek  had  an  extra  suit 
of  Sunday  clothes  to  spar,  as  everybody's  got  on  all  they've 
got  to  attend  the  Chawtalker,  which  I  endorse  highly.  So 
the  best  that  could  be  done  for  Mr.  Hawks  was  to  let  him 
have  a  pair  of  overalls  and  a  blue  jumper  jacket.  Ladies 
and  gentlemen,  Squire  Joines  will  now  come  on  the  platform 
with  Mr.  Hawks  and  introduce  him  to  you  all." 

14 


Mr.  Hawks,  dressed  in  overalls,  which  were  so  long  that 
they  had  to  be  rolled  up  at  the  bottom,  which  was  also  true 
of  the  sleeves  of  the  jumper  jacket,  came  upon  the  stage 
with  all  the  grace  of  an  experienced  platformist.  Around 
his  neck  he  had  a  red  handkerchief.  All  eyes  were  on  Mr. 
Hawks.  The  squire's  introduction  was  unique: 

"  Ladies  and  Feller  Citizens :  I'm  glad  that  the  manage- 
ment has  seen  fit  to  confer  on  me  this  great  honor.  I've 
been  in  these  bottoms  now  for  fifteen  years,  and  I  will  say 
that  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  had  a  chance  to  speak  before 
a  Yellow  Creek  audience  in  public.  Ever  since  the  creek: 
overflowed  four  years  ago  and  drowned  about  fifty  of  our 
little  chickens  I've  been  all  out  o'  sorts  with  this  whole  com- 
munity, and  I've  been  wanting  to  sell  out  and  leave,  but  now 
I  feel  all  right,  since  this  great  honor  has  come  to  me,  and 
I'm  going  to  stay,  even  if  Yellow  Creek  overflows  once  a 
week  and  drowns  every  chick  I've  got,  and  some  of  the  old 
hens  besides.  (Applause.)  Feller  citizens,  I  take  this 
opportunity  to  announce  and  to  let  you  know  that  I've  still 
got  some  of  that  good  sorghum  for  sale,  and  also  that  I  wish 
some  of  you  that  are  right  in  this  audience  now  would  pay 
me  that  money  you've  been  owing  me  ever  since  the  last 
election,  and  pay  it  right  away,  too,  as  I  promised  to  give  ten 
dollars  toward  this  Chawtalker,  which  I  believe  is  the  biggest 
sum  that  has  been  promised.  That's  all  I've  got  to  say, 
ladies  and  feller  citizens.  I  thank  you  again  for  this  privi- 
lege. So  we'll  now  hear  from  Funshine  Hawks." 

Mr.  Hawks,  as  I  have  stated  before,  was  dressed  in  blue 
overalls,  the  legs  of  which  were  rolled  up  at  the  bottom,  and 
furthermore,  he  had  on  a  jumper  jacket,  the  sleeves  of  which 
were  also  rolled  up — and  I  must  not  forget  to  mention, 
again,  the  red  handkerchief  around  his  neck.  Thus  Mr. 
Hawks  came  forward,  beginning  his  lecture  in  the  us'ial  way : 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen — Dress  suits  are  worn  too  much 
—etc.,  etc." 

IS 


When  I  learned  after  the  lecture  that  Opie  Read  was  to  be 
the  attraction  the  next  day  I  inquired  for  Susie  Jones  and 
bought  a  season  ticket. 

THIRD  DAY— ATTRACTION,  OPIE  READ. 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,"  began  the  chairman,  "  we  are 
obleeged  to  begin  operations  a  little  late  this  evening,  be- 
cause Mr.  Read  couldn't  git  here  any  sooner.  It  seems  that 
there  was  a  delay  on  The  Yellow  Creek  Limited  to  four  miles 
an  hour.  The  conductor's  Ingersoll  dollar  watch  had  stopped 
on  him  this  trip,  somehow  or  'nother,  and  in  going  to  see  the 
engineer  to  get  the  time,  he  made  a  mistake  and  set  the 
watch  by  the  steam  gage  on  the  engine.  The  general  man- 
ager did  all  he  could  to  get  them  in  here,  as  he  wired  them 
to  run  five  miles  an  hour  and  make  up  some  of  the  time.  I 
make  this  explanation  so  that  you  good  folks'll  not  blame 
Mr.  Read.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  Mr.  Read  will  now  do 
whatever  it  is  he's  going  to  do." 

Mr.  Read  arose  and  slowly  came  forward.  The  audience 
had  been  watching  him  closely  during  the  introduction.  I 
heard  'Squire  Joines,  who  sat  in  front  of  me,  whisper  to  his 
wife  that  it  was  a  shame  that  Mr.  Read  didn't  even  have 
time  to  comb  his  hair  before  coming  on  the  platform. 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen — "  these  were  Mr.  Read's  first 
words — "  a  good  story  teller  always  tells  his  stories  sitting 
down.  I  will — " 

Squire  Joines  arose  and  said,  "  Bill  Chairman — excuse  me 
a  minute,  Mr.  Read — it  must  be  somewhat  embarrassing  to 
Mr.  Read  to  have  to  come  before  an  audience  without  gitting 
a  chanct  to  even  comb  his  hair.  We've  waited  this  long,  so 
I  guess  we  can  wait  till  he  combs  his  hair.  I  make  a  motion, 
more  or  less,  that  you  get  Mr.  Read  a  looking  glass,  and 
likewise  a  comb,  so  he  can  slick  up  a  little  before  he  begins." 

"  I  second  that  motion,"  shouted  a  woman. 

16 


A  mirror  and  comb  were  promptly  produced  and  offered 
to  the  speaker. 

"  I  thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Read,  "  but  I  wear  my  hair 
this  way  all  the  time." 

The  chairman  placed  the  mirror  and  comb  on  the  table 
before  Mr.  Read  and  returned  to  his  seat  on  the  platform. 

"  I  will  begin  my  entertainment,"  continued  Mr.  Read, 
"  by  telling  you—" 

"  Excuse  me  a  minute,  Mr.  Read,"  came  a  voice  from  the 
audience,  "  but  I  heard  you  give  an  entertainment  to  a  crowd 
at  Evansville,  Indiana,  about  three  years  ago,  when  I  was 
up  there  and  spent  just  three  days  and  a  night,  and  I  don't 
think  if  I  wuz  you,  I'd  tell  that  automobile  story." 

"  What  is  your  objection  to  that  story?  "  asked  Mr.  Read. 
"  That  is  considered  one  of  the  best  stories  I  tell.  When  I 
make  return  dates  I  am  called  on  to  repeat  this  story." 

"  Well,  I  ain't  got  no  objection  to  it  myself,"  replied  the 
man  in  the  audience,  "  but  there's  hardly  none  of  this  audi- 
ence that's  ever  seen  an  automobile,  and  they  wouldn't  know 
what  you'r  talking  about,  and  therefore  it  wouldn't  seem 
funny,  and  they  wouldn't  laugh  like  them  people  in  Evans- 
ville did,  and  you'd  be  disappointed." 

"  I  thank  the  gentleman  for  the  suggestion,"  smiled  Mr. 
Read,  "  and  I  shall  take  pleasure  in  throwing  that  story  out, 
which  of  course  will  shorten  the  entertainment  a  few 
minutes." 

There  was  a  short  pause.  Mr.  Read  picked  up  the  mirror 
and  comb  and  gently  placed  them  under  the  table. 

"  I  will  now  proceed  with  my  entertainment  by  telling  you 
a  story  that — " 

"  Just  a  minute,  Mr.  Read — ."  Another  interruption  from 
the  audience.  "  I  heard  you  lecture  when  I  was  up  to  Hop- 
kinsville,  Ky.,  two  years  ago  to  see  some  relatives  on  my 
wife's  side,  and  I  don't  think  I'd  tell  that  story  about  the 
feller  shooting  out  the  moon." 

17 


"Now,  what  is  the  matter  with  that  one?"  Mr.  Read 
asked. 

"  Nothing,  so  far's  I  know,  and  of  course  you  can  tell  it 
if  you  want  to,  but  I  don't  think  there's  a  soul  in  this  audi- 
ence that'll  believe  it." 

"  I  thank  the  gentleman  " — Mr.  Read's  smile  was  growing 
broader — "  for  the  suggestion.  I  shall  gladly  leave  that 
story  out,  which  of  course  will  further  shorten  the  program." 

After  this  Mr.  Read  was  allowed  to  finish  his  entertain- 
ment without  further  interruption. 

After  it  was  all  over  I  began  to  inquire  as  to  the  nature 
of  the  next  number.  No  one  seemed  able  to  tell  me  who 
would  be  there  the  next  day.  Finally  I  learned  from  Bill 
Chairman  that  Arthur  E.  Cringle  would  be  the  next 
attraction. 

"I'll  stay  with  you  another  day,"  I  remarked  to  John 
Sharp,  as  we  were  leaving  the  grounds. 

FOURTH  DAY— ATTRACTION,  ARTHUR  E. 
CRINGLE. 

It  was  to  be  expected,  of  course,  that  Mr.  Gillilan  would 
tell  his  Lyceum  friends  about  his  adventure  at  the  Yellow 
Creek  Chautauqua ;  that  Sunshine  Hawks  would  come  along 
a  day  later  and  tell  about  his ;  and  that  Opie  Read,  hearing 
these  stories,  would  laugh  and  declare  that  judging  from 
what  happened  to  him  there  must  be  some  truth  in  the 
reports.  Nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  these  Lyceum 
folks  became  so  interested  in  this  Chautauqua  that  every 
man  decided  to  hurry  down  to  Yellow  Creek  and  see  for 
himself.  Luckily,  they  happened  on  the  scene  on  the  last 
day.  Indeed,  the  Yellow  Creek  limited  to  four  miles  an 
hour  was  so  crowded  with  Lyceum  people  that  the  conductor 
was  obliged  to  ride  on  the  engine. 

They  were  all  given  a  place  on  the  platform,  too.  Bill 
Chairman  said,  "  That's  about  the  best  I  can  do,  as  there 

18 


ain't  room  no  place  else,  anyhow."  There  was  Dr.  John 
Merritte  Driver,  who  looked  as  if  he  might  rise  any  moment 
and  begin  on  his  lecture  on  "  Ultimate  America,"  and  not 
stop  for  two  hours.  Next  came  Alton  Packard,  the  car- 
toonist, who  was  feeling  through  every  pocket  he  had  for  a 
piece  of  crayon ;  then  came  D.  Ward  King,  the  good-roads 
orator,  who  was  pulling  his  whiskers  with  the  left  hand  and 
pounding  his  right  knee  with  the  other,  he  being  excited 
over  the  condition  of  the  Yellow  Creek  roads ;  and  then  came 
Thomas  McClary,  who,  as  near  as  I  could  see,  was  practic- 
ing what  he  preaches  in  his  lecture  on  "  The  Mission  of 
Mirth."  In  the  center  of  the  circle  sat  Dr.  Cringle  in  medi- 
tative mood.  He  was  slowly  but  surely  meditating  on  "  How 
to  be  Happy  while  Listening  to  Cringle."  There  was,  too, 
Ralph  Bingham,  with  a  smile  so  broad  that  it  nearly  crowded 
the  others  off  the  platform ;  L.  Beauchamp,  smiling,  too ; 
Capt.  Jack  Crawford,  trying  to  show  every  curl  he  had ;  Bob 
Taylor,  wishing  he  had  some  of  Capt.  Jack's  hair  to  go  on 
his  own  bald  head;  and  also  Preston  W.  Search,  the  tall 
man ;  Edmund  Vance  Cooke,  the  poet ;  Hinshaw,  the  singer ; 
and  Dr.  Frank  Dixon.  Yes,  and  Gillilan,  Hawks  and  Read 
were  back,  too. 

Bill  Chairman  at  last  came  forward.  He  said :  "  Ladies 
and  Gentlemen — We  have  with  us  to-day  a  preacher  by  the 
name  of  Cringle,  that's  got  a  sermon  or  something  that's 
called  '  How  to  be  Happy  While  Living.'  I've  been  working 
on  an  introduction  for  about  three  hours,  but  as  we've  got 
so  many  Lyceum  fellers  here  to-day,  not  a  one  of  'em  as 
can't  make  a  better  introduction  right  off-hand,  extempo- 
raneously, you  might  say,  without  a  bit  of  preparation, 
better 'n  I  could  do,  so  I'll  just  call  on  any  of  'em,  and  ask 
him  to  introduce  the  speaker  of  the  evening.  This  man 
here — I  will  ask  you." 

The  man  designated  came  forward  without  a  moment's 
hesitation.  He  bowed  to  the  audience,  turned  to  his  fellow 

19 


Lyceumites  on  the  platform,  as  if  he  were  expecting  an 
inspiration,  or  sympathy,  and  then  surprised  us.  He  said : 

"  A  platform  man  may  be  likened  to  a  musician.  The 
audience  is  his  instrument — each  auditor  a  key.  The  humor- 
ist stands  before  this  wonderful  instrument  of  human  keys 
and  produces  the  music  of  laughter,  harmonious  and  pleas- 
ing to  the  ear  of  man.  The  politician  stands  before  the  same 
instrument  and  the  music  he  executes  is  the  music  of  ap- 
plause, which  is  also  harmonious  and  pleasing  to  the  ear  of 
man.  But  now  comes  the  preacher-musician.  He  takes  his 
place  before  this  instrument  and  produces,  not  the  music  of 
laughter,  nor  the  music  of  applause,  but  the  music  of  soul 
vibrations,  the  music  of  heart  pulsations,  too  silent  for  man 
to  hear,  too  classical  for  his  understanding.  God,  not  man, 
is  a  listener  to  such  music.  He  hears,  He  understands,  He 
appreciates. 

"  When  the  preacher-musician  plays  upon  an  instrument 
that  is  slightly  out  of  tune,  with  here  and  there  a  key  unre- 
sponsive, or  more  or  less  sleepy,  the  music  sounds  as  inhar- 
monious to  God  as  a  sonata  would  sound  to  music-loving 
man  if  played  by  a  Paderewsky  on  an  old  piano.  In  either 
case  the  musician  is  not  at  fault.  To-night  I  turn  to  the 
preacher-musician  and  say,  you  have  before  you  an  instru- 
ment that  is  in  splendid  tune.  Every  key  will  respond  to 
your  touch.  Perform  upon  it;  do  your  best,  as  I  know  you 
will  and  you  will  produce  a  melody  that  the  angels  in  heaven 
will  applaud.  I  turn  to  the  instrument,  the  audience,  and 
say :  you  have  before  you  a  master  performer.  He  is  here  to 
play.  You  are  here  to  be  played  upon.  The  music  will  now 
begin.  Ladies  and  Gentlemen — Dr.  Cringle." 

Yes,  the  introduction  was  good,  as  was  also  the  lecture 
that  followed.  But  I  shall  not  tell  you  who  made  the  intro- 
duction. Here  is  where  I  play  my  little  joke  on  the  reader. 
Let  him  make  a  guess.  Who  of  that  row  of  platformists 

20 


would  be  the  most  likely  to  make  such  an  introduction  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment? 

So  ended  the  Yellow  Creek  Chautauqua.  From  an  edu- 
cational viewpoint  it  was  almost  a  success.  Financially  it 
was  a  failure.  Poor  Bill  Chairman,  who  had  caught  the 
Chautauqua  fever  out  west,  and  who  had  worked  the  scheme 
up,  for  the  entertainment  and  edification  of  his  Yellow 
Creek  neighbors,  was  obliged  to  sell  his  farm  to  make  good 
the  deficit.  Well,  for  one  thing,  the  attractions  were  poorly 
advertised.  For  another,  the  man  who  does  much  good  to 
his  neighbor  does  it  at  a  sacrifice  to  himself. 


21 


OLD  UNCLE  DEB. 

Introducing  an  old-fashioned  ante-bellum  darky,  who 
brought  with  him  into  the  twentieth  century  no  education, 
no  money,  no  property — nothing  but  the  politeness  and  the 
manners  which  he  absorbed  from  the  ladies  and  the  gentle- 
men whose  slave  he  was. 

Old  Uncle  Deb  lived  in  the  Yellow  Creek  country  more 
than  a  hundred  years.  If  he  had  not  died  he  would  be  living 
there  yet. 

The  first  sketch  is  based  upon  true  incidents.  The  others 
are  based  upon  imagination. 

UNCLE  DEB  AND  HIS  CANE. 

I  saw  him  sitting  on  a  log  near  the  roadside.  He  was  one 
of  those  old  darkies  we  are  always  glad  to  meet.  A  descrip- 
tion is  unnecessary.  You  know  just  how  he  sat  there,  feeble, 
and  bent  with  age,  his  chin  resting  on  the  crook  of  a  hickory 
cane.  You  know  how  he  was  dressed.  You  know  about 
those  gray  whiskers  under  his  chin,  those  wrinkles  on  his 
face,  and  the  kinky  hair  on  his  head. 

"  Good  morning,  Uncle !  "  I  greeted. 

"  Mo'nin,  Boss."    He  straightened  up. 

"  Live  about  here  ?  " 

"  Yassah.  I  libs  wi'  Mis'  Picket.  -Dass  her  house  thar 
behin'  dat  big  dorg.  She  dun  'bout  de  bes'  woman  in  dese 
heah  United  States  o'  Ten'see,  too." 

"  Been  living  in  this  neighborhood  all  your  life  ?  " 

"  'S  much  of  it's  I  kin  recolickt,  yassah." 

"  How  far  back  can  you  recollect?  " 

"  I  kin  recolickt  's  fur  back  's  de  time  I  got  mah  firs' 
whoopin',  yassah." 

22 


"  How  old  were  you  then  ?  " 

"  Dunno  'zac'ly,  but  I  wuz  ole  'miff  t'  feel  de  whoopin',  I 
members." 

"  How  old  are  you  now  ?  " 

"  Lawzy,  Boss,  I  dunno  'bout  dat,  she's  you'se  bo'n  I 
don'." 

"  Don't  know  how  old  you  are  ?  That  seems  strange. 
Didn't  they  have  almanacs  in  those  days  ?  " 

"  Yassah.  I  reckons  dey  did.  Cose'n  dey  did,  but  I  didn't 
hab  no  time  t'  insult  no  alminark.  Nawsah.  I  sho'  don' 
know  how  ole  I  is ;  dun  grow'd  ole  so  fast  I  c'dn't  keep  up 
wid  it  'tall." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  about  a  hundred  ?  " 

"  Yassah.  Reckons  I  is.  Cos'n  I  is !  Mis'  Picket  she  dun 
'vestigate  an'  'quire  'roun'  'bout  dat  long  go." 

"  Could  you  count  a  hundred,  Uncle  ?  " 

"  Dunno  whether  I  c'd  'r  not.  Life's  too  sho't  t'  count  's 
fur  up  's  dat." 

"  That's  a  pretty  cane  you  have  there." 

"  Yassah.  I  reckon  'tis.  Dat  cane  dun  bin  cut  on  Andrew 
Jackson's  fahm.  It  dun  got  a  hist'ry  an'  a  repertation." 

"  How  long  have  you  had  it  ?  " 

"  'Bout  fifty  yeahs,  I  reckon.  Yassah.  I  thinks  a  heap  o' 
dis  cane.  It's  a  heap  o'  comfort  an'  comp'ny  t'  ole  Uncle 
Deb  in  his  ole  days." 

"What  will  you  take  for  it?" 

"  Nothin'  sah.  Nawsah !  Dis  cane's  half  o'  mah  livin'. 
Uncle  Deb  sho'  c'dn't  navigate  'thout  dis  cane.  Nawsah." 

"  Would  you  take  a  hundred  dollars  ?  " 

"  A  hunerd  dollars !  U-m-ee !  Boss,  what  you  talkin' 
'bout?  A  hunerd  dollars  fo'  dis  piece  o'  hickory.  Nawsah, 
Boss,  nawsah !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  would  not  take  more  money 
than  you  could  count?  " 

23 


"  Cos'n  I  do.  What'd  I  want  wid  mo'  money  'n  I  c'd 
count?" 

"  You  are  all  right,  Uncle.  I  would  like  to  talk  to  you  for 
about  an  hour. 

"  Reckon  you'd  hab  t'  pay  me,  Boss.  'S  ole  's  I  is  I  c'dn't 
lose  a  whole  hour  on  yo'  count  fer  nothin'.  Nawsah,  I  sho' 
c'dn't!" 

"  Lose  an  hour  ?    Why,  man,  you  are  not  doing  a  thing." 

"  Cos'n  I  am'  doin'  a  thing.  Nawsah.  I  doan'  hab  t'  wo'k 
nohow.  Mis'  Picket  she  dun  keep  me  de  res'  o'  mah  days, 
yassah,  an'  gib  me  de  same  vitalls  dey  all  eats  desself.  Cose'n 
I  ain'  doin'  a  thing." 

"  Good !  I  will  pay  you  a  dollar  an  hour.  Tell  me  some- 
thing about  yourself  during  slavery,  or  during  the  war." 

"  Is  it  a  story  you  all's  wantin',  Boss  ?  " 

"  That's  it— a  story !  " 

"  Well,  Boss,  Uncle  Deb  sho'  kin  tell  you  all  a  story,  an' 
it  'tain'  no  made-up  story  nuther,  fo'  dis  dun  occur  endurin' 
de  wah.  De  Yankees  dey  dun  had  de  railroad  boun'  up  at 
Ten'see  City  so's  t'  keep  provisions  fum  gittin'  t'  Southern 
Ahmy,  an'  dey  had  sev'rl  comp'nies  right  'roun'  heah.  I 
belonged  t'  Massah  Williams  in  de  big  house  on  de  conah 
'bout  a  quartah  mile  up  de  road  to'rds  Ten'see  City.  Mas- 
sah Williams'  folks  had  two  boys  in  de  Confed'rut  Ahmy, 
an'  one  day  one  o'  dem  boys,  young  Massah  Jo,  dun  broke 
fru  de  Yankee  lines  slick's  you  please,  an'  cum  right  on 
home.  One  o'  de  Yankee  Cap'ns  an'  his  wife  dey  wuz 
boa'din'  at  Williamses  house,  an'  dey'd  dun  tuk'n  de  oath  dat 
dey  w'dn't  help  nun  o'  de  South'rn  sojers.  An'  de  Yankees 
dun  meant  bizness,  too,  'bout  dat  oath,  yassah,  'cause  when 
sum  de  folks  dat  'd  tuk  it  helpt  anyhow  dey  dun  burnt  up 
dey  alls  houses  an'  barns,  yassah!  But  Massah  Jo  didn' 
know  de  wuz  any  Yankee  Cap'n  in  de  house,  n'r  dat  his 
folks  'd  tuk'n  de  oath,  so  he  walk  right  up  t'  de  doah  an' 
'gin  t'  knock.  Jo's  Mammy  op'n  de  doah,  an'  Jo  fell  right 

24 


int'  her  ahms,  yassah,  an'  de  Yankee  Cap'n  an'  his  wife  right 
thar  in  de  house.  But  Mis'  Williams  she  dun  hab  a  heap  o' 
presence  o'  min'  f'r  jis'  sich  a  'casion,  an'  she  dun  push  her 
boy  back  an'  say, 

"  '  Who're  you  ?    I  doan'  know  you.    Go  'way  f um  here ! ' 

" '  Doan'  you  know  me,  mammy  ? '  Jo  say,  '  I'm  yo'  boy 
Jo  jis'  cum  back  fum  de  Southern  Ahmy.' 

" '  Hush,'  say  Mis'  Williams,  '  go  on  way  fum  heah. 
You're  an  impostor.  I  ain'  got  no  boy  dat  looks  like  you.' 

"  By  dis  time  de  Cap'n's  wife  she  dun  heah  sump'n  goin' 
on  an'  cum  up  t'  de  doah,  an'  she  say,  '  Mis'  Williams  what 
do  dis  mean  ? '  an  den  Mis'  Williams  she  dun  faint,  an'  Jo 
say, '  I'm  her  boy  fum  de  ahmy  an'  she  won't  own  me.'  Den, 
Boss,  what  do  you  reckon  dat  Yankee  woman  dun?  She 
say, '  Your  mother  ain'  able  t'  help  you,  young  man,  fo'  she's 
tuk'n  de  oath,  but  I  kin.  Cum  right  in.'  Yassah,  she  dun 
dun  dat,  sho's  you's  bo'n,  an'  de  Yankee  Cap'n  right  in  de 
house.  De  Cap'n's  wife  tuk  Massah  Jo  in  de  kitchen  an'  fix 
'im  up  sump'n  nuther  t'  eat,  an'  he  sho'  hongry,  too.  Well, 
sah,  when  de  Cap'n's  wife  go  in  de  room  wha'  he  at  he  'gin 
t'  ax  'bout  what  all  de  confusion  'bout.  She  dun  tole  'im  not 
to  ax  no  questions,  dat  she  c'dn't  tell  'im,  an'  dat  it  didn't 
concarn  'im,  nohow.  Den  de  Cap'n  git  curious  an'  wan'  t' 
know  wus  'n  evah,  but  she  tole  'im  suah  'nuff  dat  she  c'nd't 
tell,  an'  jis  w'dn't  tell,  'cause  it  didn't  concarn  'im  nor  his 
ahmy.  Well,  Boss,  young  Massah  Jo  he  hid  out  in  de  woods 
foah  ten  days,  an'  ebry  day  Uncle  Deb  tuk  'im  sump'n  t'  eat 
in  a  feed  basket,  an'  kivver  it  all  up  wid  co'n  shucks,  an'  t' 
deceive  de  Yankee  sojers  I  sta't  out  fru  de  woods  a  callin' 
hawgs.  De  all  fink  I  gwine  feed  de  hawgs  an'  pay  no  'ten- 
tion  t'  me,  tho  sumtimes  dey  tease  me  'bout  feedin'  de  hawgs 
an'  de  way  I  call  'em.  An'  Massah  Jo  dun  know  what  cumin' 
when  he  heah  me  callin'  hawgs,  yassah.  Well,  sah,  t'  make 
a  sho't  story  sho'ter,  Massah  Jo  broke  back  fru  de  Yankee 
lines  agin,  an'  got  back  t'  his  ahmy  'thout  no  trouble  what- 

25 


sumevah.  An'  aftah  'twas  all  ovah,  de  Cap'n's  wife  dun  tole 
de  Yankee  Cap'n  de  whole  story,  an'  what  she'd  dun,  an'  he 
jis  smile  an'  chuck  her  undah  de  chin  an'  say,  '  you're  a 
brave  li'l  girl.'  " 

"  That's  a  splendid  story,  Uncle.  You  have  earned  your 
dollar.  Glad  to  have  met  you.  When  you  take  a  notion  to 
sell  your  cane,  drop  me  a  line.  Here's  my  card.  Good 
bye!" 

"  Good  bye,  Boss." 

I  went  on  my  way  smiling.  When  I  passed  that  way  again 
I  looked  about  for  the  old  darky,  but  failed  to  see  him. 
Anxious  to  have  another  chat  with  the  old  man  I  opened  the 
front  gate  and  entered  the  yard.  A  friendly  dog  accom- 
panied me  to  the  door.  I  knocked.  The  door  opened.  I 
was  greeted  by  Mrs.  Picket,  a  widow  eighty-two  years  old, 
a  cheerful  fireplace,  and  an  enlarged  picture  of  Uncle  Deb, 
which  hung  on  the  wall. 

"  I  wanted  to  have  a  little  talk  with  Uncle  Deb,"  I  began, 
"  the  old  darky  I  met  here  about  a  year  ago." 

"Uncle  Deb?"  She  seemed  surprised.  "Uncle  Deb  is 
dead." 

"  He  is  ?  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that.  I  suppose  I  will  now  be 
able  to  buy  his  cane." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  replied  the  woman.  "  We  thought  a 
great  deal  of  Uncle  Deb.  He  was  the  main  spoke  in  the 
wheel  at  this  place  when  he  lived,  and  when  he  died — " 

"  Well,  would  you  mind  letting  me  examine  the  cane?  " 

"  Couldn't  do  that,  either,  Mister,  for  when  he  died  the 
cane  was  placed  in  the  coffin  and  buried  with  him." 

UNCLE  DEB  AND  MOTHER  GOOSE. 

"Well,  Uncle  Deb,"  I  observed  the  other  day,  "I've 
talked  to  you  about  almost  every  subject  of  interest,  and  I 
am  glad  to  find  you  so  well  posted.  I  thought  to-day  I  would 
ask  you  a  few  questions  about  literature — that  seems 'to  be 

26 


the  one  subject  we  have  avoided  altogether.     Did  you  ever 
hear  of  Old  Mother  Goose? " 

"  Yassah,   I  has,"  he  replied,   "  'fact  I   knowed  de  ole 
woman  well." 

"  Not  the  one  I  am  talking  about.    She  lived  in  a  shoe." 
"  Same  woman,  Boss." 

"  But  where  did  she  find  a  shoe  big  enough  to  live  in  ?  " 
"  Easy  'nuff,  Boss.  Didn'  you  all  nevah  heah  o'  nigger 
Bill  jack  Snipes  deown  Yaller  Crick — de  bigges'  footed 
nigger  you  evah  seed?  Well,  sah,  one  day  he  done  frowed 
'way  one  o'  his  shoes  an'  Ole  Mammy  Goose  she  done  cum 
'long  an'  seed  it  and  move  right  in,  an'  'gin  t'  lib  dar." 

"  Now,  speaking  about  the  Mother  Goose  rhymes,  did  you 
ever  hear  that  one  about  Little  Jack  Horner  ?  " 
"  Yassah !    'Fact  is,  I  knowed  Jack  Horner  well.' 
"  Not  this  Jack  Horner,  I  reckon.    You  know  the  jingle 
says  he  ate  a  Christmas  pie." 

"  Same  feller.    I  seed  him  when  he  was  a  eatin'  dat  pie." 
"  Did  you  ever  see  the  picture  of  him  in  the  book?  " 
"  O,  yassah,  I  seed  dat  all  right ;  but  dat  book  done  got 
the  whole  thing  up  wrong.     You  cain'  nevah  'pend  on  de 
books  nohow.    Now  I  tells  ye  I  seed  Jack  Horner  when  he 
eatin'  dat  pie,  an'  in  de  fust  place  he  warn't  sittin'  down  'tall, 
like  de  book  say  he  was ;  an'  in  de  second  place,  he  didn' 
stick  in  his  thumb,  nohow,  but  he  stuck  in  de  whole  hand — 
don'  I  know  Jack  Horner?" 

"  Well,  Uncle  Deb,  I  suppose  you  have  heard  that  one 
about  the  cow  jumping  over  the  moon?  " 

"  'Cose'n  I  has.    Why,  'fact  is,  I  seed  her  when  she  done 
it." 

"  Ah,  go  on  now.    Where  were  you  when  you  saw  her  ?  " 
"  Why  I  was  gwine  out  t'  de  lot  t'  milk  dat  cow  at  de 
time." 

"  Did  you  milk  her  before  she  jumped?  " 
"  Nawsah,  she  jumped  jes'  's  I  opened  de  lot  gate." 
3  27 


"  How  long  did  the  cow  stay — I  mean,  how  long  did  it 
take  her  to  make  the  jump?" 

"  Till  'bout  ten  o'clock  I  reckon  ?  " 

"  Where  were  you  all  that  time  ?  " 

"  I  was  in  de  lot  waitin'  fo'  de  cow  t'  git  back  so's  I  c'd 
milk  'er." 

"  I  suppose  you  got  a  lot  of  milk  that  night  ?  " 

"  Nawsah !    Didn't  git  a  drap." 

"  How  do  you  account  for  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  Boss,  I  reckon  de  man  in  de  Moon  had  done 
milked  her." 

UNCLE  DEB  OBJECTS. 

I  had  been  having  daily  talks  with  Uncle  Deb  for  a  month, 
with  a  view  of  getting  material  for  Darky  Sketches.  The 
other  day  I  sent  for  him  again.  I  said : 

"  Uncle  Deb,  I  sent  for  you  that  I  might  have  another  chat 
with  you.  You  are  such  an  interesting  talker — I  enjoy  your 
company." 

"  I  knows  what  you  all's  wantin'  wid  me.  You  cain'  fool 
Uncle  Deb.  I  is  dey  smartest  nigger  on  Yaller  Crick." 

"  Well,  then,  what  do  you  reckon  I  want  with  you  ?  " 

"  You  all's  wantin'  me  t'  say  sumpin'  or  nuther  that's  smart 
so's  you  can  write  it  down  on  paper  an'  send  it  to  dey  maga- 
zeenes.  I've  heard  'bout  dey  way  you  all's  been  havin'  my 
sayings  printed  in  dey  magazeenes.  I  doan'  think  it's  fair 
anyhow  t'  take  the  very  words  right  out'n  a  feller's  mouf  an' 
git  money  fur  'em." 

"  I  regret  that  you  take  such  a  pessimistic  view  of  the 
matter,  Uncle  Deb,  but  you  see  I  make  my  living  with  my 
pen,  and  have  to  get  my  material  the  best  way  I  can.  But  I 
want  you  to  understand  that  the  magazines  do  not  print  your 
sayings  that  I  send  in  to  them  because  they  are  smart,  or 
because  you  say  them." 

"  Why  does  they  print  'em,  then,  I'd  like  to  know." 

28 


"  They  print  them  because  my  name  is  signed  to  them. 
That  is  what  makes  the  matter  valuable — my  name." 

"  Well,  sir,  dat  reminds  me.  I've  got  a  pome  heah  that 
one  o'  my  grandchillun  dun  writ.  It's  an  ode  to  spring." 

"  How  long  has  he  owed  it?  " 

"  'Bout  sixteen  versus,  I  reckon." 

I  took  the  paper — common  wrapping  paper — from  Uncle 
Deb's  extended  hand.  I  read  but  one  verse. 

"  This  is  pure  rot,  Uncle  Deb,"  I  said,  handing  the  manu- 
script back,  "  no  paper  on  earth  would  publish  this." 

"  Dat's  what  I  wuz  a  thinkin',  but  Boss,  couldn'  you  all 
sign  your  name  to  it  and  have  it  published  anyhow  ?  " 

A  NEGRO  BARBECUE. 

There  is  a  settlement  of  colored  people  down  Yellow 
Creek  who  have  an  annual  barbecue.  This  settlement  is 
made  up  of  a  good  class  of  men  and  women,  who  attend 
church  on  Sunday,  and  serve  God  during  the  week. 

Anything  promoted  by  good  people  must  be  good.  So 
this  barbecue  was  a  good  barbecue — good  enough  for  many 
white  people  to  attend.  A  negro  school  teacher,  a  lady  of 
refinement,  delivered  an  address  on  education  and  religion. 
The  minister  who  introduced  her  to  his  flock,  and  the  white 
people  present,  assured  her  that  the  audience  might  indeed 
be  considered  Christian,  for  the  sinners,  he  declared,  were  so 
few  in  number  that  they  were  ashamed  to  admit  it.  The 
speaker  began  by  saying  that  it  was  the  best  behaved  crowd 
of  colored  folks  she  had  ever  seen,  adding,  "  It  is  the  first 
barbecue  I  have  attended  in  many  years  where  I  did  not  see 
or  hear  the  banjo,  the  fiddle,  and  the  guitar." 

Uncle  Deb  had  been  given  a  prominent  office.  He  was  to 
take  into  custody  any  man  of  either  race  guilty  of  violating 
any  rule — there  were  just  two.  As  the  white  people  came 
on  the  grounds  Uncle  Deb  approached  them  with  his  little 
speech. 

29 


"  You  all's  welcome  t'  this  heah  barbecue — 'deed  you  is, 
but  I'll  have  t'  ax  you  t'  be  conformed  t'  de  rules  dat's  done 
been  made  up  for  de  'casion.  In  de  fust  place,  dar  ain' 
gwine  t'  be  no  cussin' ;  an'  in  de  secon'  place,  dar  ain'  gwine 
t'  be  no  drinkin'.  Now,  when  we  all  come  t'  de  barbecues 
you  all  gits  up  we  sure  'nuff  'haves  ourselves,  'cause  we  been 
brought  up  dat  away,  an'  dat's  all  we  knows.  So  we  ax 
you  t'  do  the  same  by  us.  Dat's  right,  ain'  it?  Cose'n  it's 
right!" 

UNCLE  DEB  ON  GHOSTS. 

Yuall  ax  me  do  I  'bleeve  in  spukes?  Yessah!  I'se 
'bleeged  t'  tell  ye  yessah!  Maybe  yuall  doan'  kno'  nuthin' 
'bout  'em,  but  I  does.  'Way  back  in  de  'ginnin',  when  de 
good  Lawd  he  dun  make  Adam,  an'  put  him  t'  sleep,  so's 
he'd  kno'  nuthin',  an'  tuk  one  o'  dem  floatin'  ribs  dat  Adam 
didn'  need  nohow,  an'  make  Mis'  Eve,  why  den  de  debbil  he 
dun  stud  'round  an'  watchin'  what  a-goin'  on  so's  he  c'd 
make  him  a  man  too.  An'  lawse  me,  what  yuall  reckon  de 
debbil's  man  he  was  like — why  he  warn't  nuthin  more  'n  a 
ghost — nuthin'  but  a  shadder.  Den  der  debbil  he  put  his 
ghost  t'  sleep,  and  he  tuk  a  rib  an'  make  him  'nother  ghost 
quicker'n  yo'  c'd  say  scat.  Well,  sah,  den  de  ghost's  deyall 
jes'  watch  Adam  an'  Eve,  an'  do  what  dey  do,  an'  fust  thing 
yo'  know  when  Adam  an'  Eve  dey  has  chillun,  why  dem 
ghosts  dey  has  chillun,  too.  Yessah,  dey  multipline  an' 
addin'  jes'  like  de  white  folks,  an'  when  de  folks  am  a  mill- 
yun,  de  ghosts  am  a  millyun.  But  de  ghosts  dun  git  de  bes' 
o'  de  folks  when  de  big  flood  cum,  'cause  all  de  folks  dey  git 
drown',  an'  de  ghosts  dey  doan',  'cause  yo'  cain'  kill  a  ghost 
nohow,  an'  none  o'  de  ghosts  eber  dies. 

Hit  takes  all  kin'  o'  ghosts  t'  make  a  world.  Some  ain't 
got  no  laigs,  but  dey  got  arms  an'  hands  whar  de  laigs 
oughter  be,  an'  some  ain't  got  no  hands,  but  de  got  laigs  an' 
feet  whar  de  arms  oughter  be.  An'  some  ain't  got  no  head — 

30 


'cause  a  ghost  doan'  need  no  sense,  nohow,  but  dey  got  a 
sumpin'  what  look  like  a  punkin  fo'  a  head.  An'  dey  ain't 
got  no  eyes,  neether,  'cause  dey  go  'bout  at  night  when  its 
plum  dark,  an'  dey  doan'  need  no  eyes,  'cause  it  doan'  matter 
nohow  whether  de  ghosts  sees  yuall  'r  not,  jes'  so's  yo'  see 
de  ghost. 

Yessah.  Dat  am  why  I  sez  de  world's  full  o'  ghosts  an* 
de  man  what  ain't  nebber  seed  a  ghost,  why  he  jes'  ain't  been 
'round  nun. 


OTHER  SKETCHES. 

Including  a  few  incidents  which  did  not  occur  on  Yellow 
Creek,  but  were  told  there. 

LAZY  BILL  ADKINS. 

Bill  Adkins  was  the  laziest  man  in  the  Yellow  Creek 
country.  None  of  his  neighbors  would  give  him  work — and 
what  is  more,  Bill  seldom  applied  for  a  job.  But  Bill  was 
quite  a  humorist,  which  was  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary,  for 
hasn't  some  one  said  that  humor  is  simply  a  lazy  man's 
point  of  view? 

Bill  lived  about  a  mile  from  the  One-Hoss  Store,  owned 
by  Jim  Bumper.  The  last  time  Bill  visited  the  store  Jim 
reminded  him  of  a  little  debt. 

"  Say,  Bill,"  Jim  remarked,  about  the  time  Bill  was  ready 
to  leave,  "  when  are  you  going  to  pay  me  that  ten  dollars 
you've  been  owing  me  ever  since  Cleveland  was  elected  the 
first  time  ?  " 

Bill  hesitated  fully  three  seconds.  "  I  don't  owe  you  any 
ten  dollars,  do  I  ?  " 

"  You  certainly  do,  Bill." 

"  Well,  it's  been  so  long  ago,  I  reckon,  I've  forgot  all 
about  it." 

"  I'll  have  you  know  I've  not  forgot  it." 

Bill  paused  another  three  seconds.  "  You  want  me  to  pay 
it,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  do  that,  Bill,  I've  got  to  have  the  money  so  that  I  can 
put  in  another  barrel  of  sugar,  as  blackberries  are  getting 
ripe,  and  I  also  need  a  new  box  of  tobacco." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  suggested  Bill,  "  I'll  earn  the 

32 


money  by  working  for  it,  and  pay  you  next  month ;  or  I'll 
try  to  borrow  the  money  and  pay  you  next  week ;  or,  if  you 
won't  say  anything  about  it,  I'll  steal  the  money  and  pay  you 
to-morrow.  Now  what  would  you  rather  I'd  do?" 

"  Considering  how  bad  I  need  the  money  I  reckon  I'd  a 
little  rather  you'd  steal  it." 

"All  right,  Jim,  I'll  steal  it— but  I'll  have  to  wait  until 
you  close  up  your  store." 

"  Hold  on  here,  Bill — if  you  are  figuring  on  stealing  it 
from  me,  I  guess  I'd  rather  you'd  borrow  the  money." 

"  All  right,  Jim,  anyway  suits  me — loan  me  ten  dollars." 

"  O,  well,  if  you  calculate  to  borrow  it  from  me,  why  I 
reckon  I'll  be  satisfied  to  wait  until  you  earn  it." 

"  Suits  me  all  right,  Jim.  I'd  just  as  soon  earn  it.  So, 
Jim,  I'll  ask  you  to  give  me  a  job." 

"  O,  pshaw,  Bill !  If  you  are  wanting  to  earn  that  money 
by  working  for  me,  I  guess  you  can  owe  it  to  me  a  little 
while  longer." 

NINETEEN-OUGHT-EIGHT,  TEN  RINGS. 

Hiram  Braggmyer  had  been  reading  a  magazine,  when 
he  remarked  to  his  wife  Mirandy: 

"  I  see  by  the  readin'  in  the  magazine  papers  that  some 
o'  them  inventin'  chaps  are  gettin'  us  up  a  wireless  tell-me- 
fone,  without  even  any  poles  attached  t'  'em.  Won't  that  be 
great !  " 

Mirandy  hesitated.  Then  answered,  "  Maybe  'twould  be 
great,  but  I  hope  they  won't  do  it  'cause  if  they  haven't  any 
wire  nor  no  poles  I  reckon  they'd  have  t'  have  more  rings, 
and  as  we've  already  got  ten  rings  t'  our  tell-me-fone,  I'm 
feared  that  if  we  have  t'  have  any  more,  I'll  have  to  go  t' 
school  an'  get  a  better  education  so's  I  can  count  'em  all." 

Hiram  laughed  heartily.  "  I  reckon  that's  about  it ;  but 
they'd  have  their  advantages,  too.  For  instance,  as  I  under- 
stand the  readin'  in  the  magazine  papers,  we  gets  a  letter 

33 


to-day  from  our  boy  Bill,  sayin'  that  he'd  be  home  probably 
this  evenin'  on  that  seven-thirty  train,  an'  that  as  soon  as  he 
got  t'  the  station,  he'd  call  up  nineteen-ought-eight-ten  rings, 
an'  let  us  know  that  he'd  come,  so's  we  could  hitch  up  old 
Maud  an'  come  after  him.  Well,  that's  good,  but  now  if  we 
had  wireless  tell-me-fones  he  could've  called  us  up  on  the 
train,  so's  we  could've  known  an  hour  before  he  got  here 
that  he's  comin',  an'  could've  hitched  up  Maud  and  been  at 
the  depot  by  the  time  the  train  got  there,  you  see." 

"  Yes,  an'  that  bell  ought  t'  be  a  ringin'  right  now,"  ob- 
served Mirandy,  "  for  it's  nearly  eight  o'clock,  and  that  train 
is  hardly  ever  late." 

"  That's  right,"  agreed  Hiram.  "  I  don't  see  what  the 
trouble  could  be.  Surely  Bill  wouldn't  stop  an'  go  t'  talkin' 
t'  some  o'  his  friends  an'  forgit  about  it." 

Just  at  this  moment  the  telephone  bell  began  to  ring. 
Hiram  sprang  to  his  feet  and  approached  the  box,  counting, 
"  One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  sev — ." 

"  Six,"  observed  Hiram  as  he  seated  himself,  "  that's  for 
the  Jones'.  They're  havin'  a  heap  a  doin'  at  their  place  since 
their  daughter  Fushia's  goin'  t'  git  married  t'  that  city  chap. 
An'  that's  to-morrow,  too,  ain't  it  ?  Poor  Fushia !  She  came 
mighty  nigh  being  our  daughter-in-law ;  an'  she'd  a  married 
Bill,  too,  if  her  daddy  hadn't  gone  an'  spoiled  it  all  by  sendin' 
her  off  t'  college,  where  she  met  that  chap  that's  goin'  t'  be 
her  husband  to-morrow.  Bill  loved  that  girl  and  I  recon 
he'll  never  love  another." 

Again  the  telephone  bell  rang.  Hiram  counted,  "  One, 
two,  three,  four.  Say,  Mirandy,  six  the  other  time  an'  four 
this  time,  makes  ten,  don't  it?  Guess  I'll  listen  some." 

Listen  he  did  but  only  a  moment.  A  smile  played  on  his 
face  as  he  returned  to  his  seat.  "  Two  women  folks  are 
talkin',"  he  said.  "  One  says,  '  I  recon  there  wont  be  any 
weddin'  at  Jones'  to-morrow,  after  all.'  '  Why  ? '  asks  the 
other'n.  '  'Cause,'  says  the  first  woman,  '  that  seven-thirty 

34 


train  has  been  wrecked,  an'  there  was  a  young  man  on  it  that 
was  killed,  an'  they  think  it's  the  young  fellow  that's  comin' 
t'  marry  Fushia  Jones '.  I  hope  it's  so.  That's  the  best 
thing  that's  happened  yet,  sure." 

"  Why,  Hiram,  you  oughtened  to  wish  anybody  bad  luck." 

"  I  ain't.  It's  the  workin'  o'  Providence.  That  feller  had 
no  bizness  fallin'  in  love  with  a  gal  that  he  knowed  belonged 
t'  somebody  else.  I  say  he  ought  not  t'  have  done  it,  it 
served  him  right  t'  git  killed,  an'  I  am  glad  of  it.  Yes,  mum. 
Now,  maybe,  our  boy  Bill  will  have  a  show.  I  believe 
Fushia  will  have  him  after  all." 

The  telephone  bell  rang  the  third  time.  Hiram  counted, 
"  One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven,  eight,  nine,  ten — 
Hurrah,  that's  for  us !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  this  is  ten  rings — an'  have  been  a  waitin'  for 
ye." 

"  Yes,  sir,  we  were  sorter  expectin'  Bill  on  that  seven- 
thirty  train  to-night." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  heerd  that  the  train  was  wrecked." 

"  I  heerd  that  too — that  one  young  feller  was  killed." 

"What !" 

Hiram  allowed  the  receiver  to  drop,  as  he  staggered  back- 
ward, regaining  his  equilibrium  in  a  moment.  He  had  re- 
ceived a  shock. 

"  Mirandy !  Mirandy ! "  he  said,  "  I've  got  bad  news  for 
ye.  Wipe  away  that  smile  and  make  room  fer  the  tears,  fer 
I  know  they're  coming.  The  young  man  that  was  killed  was 
our  boy  Bill." 

A  MAN  AND  HIS  DOG. 

One  night  the  man  dreamed  that  he  was  a  dog.  For  some 
time  he  barked  at  the  moon.  Then  he  jumped  over  the  fence 
and  ran  down  the  street,  playing  that  he  was  a  mad-dog, 
biting  children  and  frightening  grown  people.  After  that 

35 


he  ran  out  in  the  country  and  chased  rabbits  and  chickens, 
and  like  Bill  Nye's  dog,  "  Entomologist,"  collected  insects. 

At  the  same  time  the  dog  dreamed  that  he  was  a  man.  He 
walked  down  the  street  smoking  a  pipe,  entering  a  saloon 
on  the  first  corner,  where  he  joined  a  jolly  good  crowd  and 
ate  limburger  cheese  and  drank  beer  until  he  felt  like  a  jolly 
good  fellow. 

In  the  morning  when  the  man  awoke  he  said  to  his  wife, 
"  I've  had  one  of  the  finest  dreams  I  have  ever  had  in  my 
life.  I  was  just  enjoying  myself  royally.  My,  it  was  fine! 
If  I  ever  have  another  dream  like  that  I  hope  I'll  never  wake 
up." 

When  the  dog  awoke  he  felt  pretty  bad  and  upon  meeting 
another  dog,  said :  "  Say,  pard,  I've  had  the  awfullest  dream 
I  have  ever  had  in  my  life.  It  was  a  regular  night-mare. 
My,  but  I  suffered.  Why,  I  was  leading  a  regular  dog's  life 
all  night.  If  I  ever  dream  like  that  again  I  hope  I'll  die 
before  I  wake  up." 

A  BOY  AND  HIS  HOBBY. 

A  Sunday  school  superintendent  overtook  a  small  boy 
riding  a  stick  horse  in  one  of  the  larger  cities  in  Indiana. 

"  Taking  a  ride,  are  you,  my  little  man  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  U-u-h !  h-u-h !  But,  Mister,  you  oughter  seen  the  stick 
horses  I  had  when  we  lived  in  the  country !  They  c'd  run  a 
heap  faster'n  this  un." 

"  Do  you  ever  go  to  Sunday  school,  my  little  man  ?  " 

"  U-u-h !  h-u-h !  I  go  to  Sunday  school  every  Sunday. 
But,  Mister,  you  oughter  see  my  uncle's  ponies.  They  ain't 
stick  ponies  at  all ;  they're  meat  ponies.  An'  my !  they  can 
just  fly." 

"  Do  you  like  to  go  to  Sunday  school,  my  little  man?  " 

"  U-u-h !  h-u-h !  I  like  it  fine.  But,  Mister,  you  just 
oughter  see  them  ponies.  When  my  uncle  hitches  'em  up 
and  starts  t'  drive  me  an'  ma  out  in  the  country,  one  can  run 

36 


just  as  fast  as  the  other,  an'  they  both  can  run  just  as  fast  as 
they  can,  an'  they  make  so  much  dust  you'd  think  we  wuz  a 
sure-'nough  train." 

"  Where  do  you  go  to  Sunday  school,  my  little  man?  " 
"  In  the  Cotton  Mill  Blocks.    But,  Mister,  them  ponies  can 
sure  fly.     They're  both  twins,  an'  both  look  alike,  so  you 
can't  tell  which  one's  which ;  but  their  names  is  different." 
"  What  do  you  learn  in  Sunday  school,  my  little  man?  " 
"  O,  just  everything.    But,  Mister,  them  ponies  " — 
A  ragman  turned  into  the  street  with  his  "  Rags !   Rags ! 
Rags !  "     The  boy  dropped  his  stick  horse  and  ran  to  the 
ragman's  cart,  shouting:    "  Deggone,  Mister ;  I've  got  some 
rags ! " 

THE  LEGEND  OF  BIG  CAVE. 

Once  upon  a  time  Big  Cave  was  not.  That  was  long 
before  Columbus  discovered  America — long  before  the  In- 
dians lived  here.  But  once  upon  a  certain  time  Big  Cave 
came  into  existence.  And  this  is  how  it  happened. 

But  first  of  all  let  us  take  a  look  at  the  cave,  which  is 
nothing  more  than  a  large  hole  in  the  ground  which  takes 
one  out  of  daylight  into  darkness.  If  it  could  take  one  into 
daylight  again  without  bringing  him  back  to  the  place  he 
started  from,  it  would  be  a  tunnel.  The  mouth  of  Big  Cave 
is  wide  and  high  enough  to  admit  a  large  load  of  hay  to 
drive  in.  About  a  hundred  yards  from  the  opening  is  a 
large  lake,  which  is  said  to  be  bottomless.  Whatever  became 
of  the  bottom,  no  one  knows.  Once  a  visitor  declared  that 
it  must  have  been  utilized  in  covering  the  surrounding  coun- 
try with  hills  and  knobs. 

A  few  days  before  Big  Cave  came  into  existence  there 
came  the  greatest  giant  the  world  has  ever  seen.  He  was 
taller  than  the  Flatiron  Building  of  New  York,  and  carried 
a  telegraph  pole  for  a  walking  cane — or,  to  be  more  accu- 
rate, his  walking  cane  was  not  exactly  a  telegraph  pole,  but 

37 


large  enough  to  be  used  for  that  purpose.  His  voice  was  so 
strong  that  when  he  spoke  the  people  living  in  China,  Russia, 
and  Japan  could  hear  it  thunder. 

One  day  the  giant  suddenly  realized  that  he  was  a  great 
man.  His  first  inclination  was  to  fight  the  world.  As  there 
were  no  telephones  in  those  days  nor  reduced  night  rates  via 
Western  Union,  Mr.  Whatever-His-Name  was  obliged  to 
hallo  his  challenge.  This  he  did.  He  shouted :  "  Fellow- 
giants  and  nations  of  the  earth,  you  all  know  me.  I  am  the 
greatest  of  all  great  giants.  I  feel  my  greatness  more  to-day 
than  ever  before,  as  becometh  a  great  man  of  my  proportions 
and  unlimited  strength.  I  want  to  fight,  for  I  need  exercise 
and  recreation.  I  can  whip  the  whole  world  with  one  hand 
and  one  eye  shut.  Here  I  come !  " 

His  thundering  voice  struck  a  near-by  bluff  with  such  tre- 
mendous force  that  it  knocked  a  large  hole  in  it.  This  hole 
is  now  Big  Cave.  When  the  giant  saw  what  he  had  done,  he 
crawled  into  the  hole  to  explore  the  greatness  of  his  handyi — 
no,  mouthwork — and  became  fastened  and  starved  to  death. 

Moral:  When  a  man  feels  his  greatness  to  such  an  extent 
that  he  will  permit  it  to  make  a  fool  of  him,  it  is  time  for 
him  to  crawl  into  a  hole. 

THE   POLITICAL   RECORD   OF   SQUIRE  JOINES. 

The  first  political  convention  in  the  campaign  of  1908  was 
that  of  the  Populists,  in  which  Tom  Watson  of  Georgia  was 
nominated  for  President  of  the  United  States. 

Squire  Joines  read  about  it,  at  once  sold  a  pig  and  sub- 
scribed for  Watson's  papers,  then  sold  another  pig  and 
bought  some  of  Watson's  books.  He  went  up  and  down 
Yellow  Creek  for  a  month  talking  for  Watson. 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  he,  "  Watson's  the  man  for  me.  Wat- 
son's a  fine  historian,  a  fine  editor,  and  he'll  make  a  fine 
president.  I  say,  Hurrah  for  Watson." 

38 


The  second  convention  was  held  by  the  Socialists.  Eu- 
gene V.  Debs  was  the  choice  of  that  convention. 

Squire  Joines  sold  a  few  dozen  eggs  at  the  One-Hoss 
Store  and  subscribed  for  "  The  Appeal  to  Reason,"  and 
then  sold  some  more  eggs  and  bought  books  on  Socialism. 

His  neighbors  were  surprised  when  they  learned  of  the 
Squire's  conversion. 

"  Yes,"  he  declared,  "  since  I've  been  reading  the  Appeal  I 
see  where  all  of  us  poor  fellers  ought  to  vote  for  Debs.  The 
Socialist  party  is  the  poor  man's  party,  and  I  hope  every  last 
one  of  you  down  here  on  Yellow  Creek  will  join  in  with  me 
and  help  the  poor  man.  Watson's  all  right,  but  Debs  is 
better.  Hurrah  for  Debs — he's  the  man  for  Joines." 

Now  it  also  happened  that  the  Republicans  had  a  con- 
vention in  1908,  in  which  William  Howard  Taft  was  nomi- 
nated. 

Squire  Joines  heard  about  it,  and  decided,  after  reading 
the  platform,  that  Republicanism  suited  him  about  right.  So 
he  sold  a  calf  and  subscribed  for  a  Republican  paper. 

So  the  Yellow  Creekers  were  surprised  once  more.  Who 
ever  saw  such  a  versatile  man  as  the  Squire  ? 

"  The  fact  is,"  explained  the  Squire,  "  the  Republicans 
have  run  the  Government  so  long  that  they  just  naturally 
know  how — and  for  a  big  man  I  guess  Taft's  it.  So  I'm 
going  to  vote  for  Taft  if  I  lose  every  friend  I've  got." 

The  Democrats,  too,  had  a  convention  that  year.  William 
Jennings  Bryan  was  the  man. 

Squire  Joines  heard  about  that.  He  read  the  platform. 
Sold  a  cow  and  subscribed  for  Bryan's  Commoner,  and  sent 
the  remainder  of  the  money  to  the  Democratic  campaign 
fund. 

"  Poor  Bryan,"  he  said,  "  has  been  running  now  the 
third  time,  an'  he  just  ought  to  have  it.  My  father  was  a 
Democrat,  and  so  was  my  grandfather.  I  say,  down  with 

39 


the  plutocrat  and  up  with  the  Democrat.  Hurrah  for  Bryan ! 
Guess  I'll  vote  for  him." 

Still  another  convention  followed — that  of  the  Prohibi- 
tionists. Squire  Joines  read  about  that,  sold  a  horse,  sub- 
scribed for  the  Patriot  Phalanx,  and  began  to  talk  Prohibi- 
tion, offering  no  apology  for  his  change,  except  that  it  would 
be  time  enough  to  elect  Taft  or  Bryan  after  we  get  rid  of 
the  saloon. 

However,  after  the  conventions  were  over,  Squire  Joines 
cooled  off  somewhat  and  gave  his  neighbors  a  rest.  But  the 
strangest  thing  about  it  all  was  that  when  election  day  finally 
came  Squire  Joines  did  not  vote  at  all. 

THE  YELLOW  CREEK  RAILROAD. 

"  When  does  this  train  leave  ?  "  I  asked  the  conductor, 
whose  name  I  understood  to  be  E.  H.  Harriman — Everlast- 
ingly Hurryup  Harriman. 

"  Just  as  soon  as  the  engineer  gets  back  from  'Squire 
Joines',"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "  He  had  to  go  over  there 
to  borrow  a  monkey  wrench  to  tighten  the  smoke  stack  a 
little." 

The  engineer,  whose  name  was  J.  J.  Hill — Jumping 
Jackup  Hill,  came  in  due  time — that  is,  in  two  hours  and  ten 
minutes,  explaining  to  Conductor  Harriman  that  the  'Squire 
had  gotten  started  on  talking  about  his  stock  and  farm  so 
that  he  just  couldn't  get  away  any  sooner. 

"  All  aboard  !  "  shouted  the  conductor.  The  Yellow  Creek 
Limited  to  four  miles  an  hour  was  ready  to  start. 

Bill  Adkins  ran  up  to  the  conductor  and  pulling  him  by 
the  coat,  said : 

"  I  want  to  ride  on  this  here  train,  Mister  Conductor,  but 
I  don't  know  as  I  want  any  board.  I  brought  a  lunch  with 
me." 

"  That's  all  right,  sir,"  laughed  the  conductor.  "  Get  right 
on,  and  we'll  cut  the  wind." 

40 


The  train  had  but  one  coach,  and  the  coach  had  but  two 
passengers.  Adkins  sat  a  few  seats  ahead  of  me. 

"'  What's  your  destination,  Mr.  Adkins  ?  "  I  ventured  to 
ask. 

Adkins  seemed  nonplussed  for  eight  minutes,  then  bright- 
ened up.  "  I  jes'  'lowed  some  fool  feller  'd  ask  me  that  'bout 
the  time  I  got  good  an'  started,"  he  said.  "  Well,  I  reckon 
it's  bout'  the  same  as  usual.  I  ain't  noticed  any  difference, 
as  I  kin  see.  What's  your'n  ?  " 

Seeing  that  my  question  had  been  misunderstood,  I 
changed  the  subject,  and  also  changed  seats — taking  one  in 
front  of  Adkins  so  I  could  see  his  face  better. 

The  conductor  came  by  for  tickets. 

"  I  ain't  got  none,"  replied  Bill  Adkins,  looking  thru  the 
window. 

"  Money'll  do  just  as  well,"  returned  Conductor  Harri- 
man. 

"  Ain't  got  none  o'  that  either — but  I'm  going  to  sell  an- 
other one  o'  my  shoats  next  week,  I  think,  if  nothing  hap- 
pens, and  then  I'll  pay  ye." 

"  All  right,"  smiled  the  conductor,  good  naturedly.  "  I 
guess  if  the  One-Hoss  Store  will  sell  you  goods  on  credit 
we  ought  to  sell  you  a  ride  on  credit — tho  I  don't  believe 
there's  anything  said  about  that  in  the  book  of  rules," 

The  conductor  left  the  car  and  took  a  position  on  the  rear 
platform.  I  asked  Adkins  to  excuse  me  and  joined  Mr. 
Harriman. 

"  How  much  mileage  have  you  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Ten  miles  altogether,"  was  the  answer,  "  from  terminal 
to  terminus." 

"  How  many  trips  do  you  make  a  day  ?  " 

"  One." 

"  That  all?    What's  the  schedule?  " 

"  Eight  hours." 

4i 


We  were  now  getting  out  of  sight  of  the  terminal — or,  it 
might  have  been  the  terminus.  At  any  rate,  it  was  at  least 
half  a  mile  away  and  could  not  be  seen.  I  noticed  that  two 
dogs  were  trotting,  sometimes  walking,  along  behind  the 
train,  but  always  keeping  up. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  whose  dogs  those  are?  "  I  asked. 

"  That  biggest  one,"  replied  Harriman,  with  enthusiasm, 
"  belongs  to  me.  I  got  'er  in  a  peculiar  way.  One  day  a 
stranger  got  on  the  train  with  a  dog.  He  didn't  have  any 
ticket,  nor  did  he  have  a  cent  of  money.  He  said  that  he 
would  give  me  his  dog  for  a  ride.  Seeing  that  I  couldn't 
get  anything  else,  of  course  I  took  the  dog.  My  policy  is, 
if  you  can't  get  what  you  want  take  what  you  can  get.  So  I 
took  the  dog,  and  he's  one  of  the  smartest  dogs  I've  ever 
seen,  too.  The  other  dog  is  one  of  her  pups  and  belongs  to 
Engineer  Hill." 

"  Do  they  follow  the  train  often  ?  " 

"  Every  trip  we  make.    We've  got  them  trained  to  that." 

"  Any  particular  reason  for  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  see  we  keep  these  dogs  along  to  run  the 
cattle  off  the  track.  We  save  many  a  delay  that  way.  When 
there's  cattle  on  the  track  the  engineer  toots  the  whistle, 
and  the  dogs  run  ahead  of  the  train  and  chase  them  off,  so 
we  don't  have  to  slack  up  any.  That's  a  great  scheme  of 
ours." 

At  this  point  the  train  came  to  a  sudden  stand  still. 

"Cattle?"  I  ventured. 

"  No,  here's  where  we  take  water.  We  are  crossing  Yel- 
low Creek." 

"Where's  the  tank?" 

"  Don't  need  any  tank.    We  carry  the  water  in  buckets." 


THE  LETTERS  OF  GAL  F.  HEAD. 

Introducing  a  Yellow  Creek  farmer  who  uses  a  dictionary 
and  a  typewriter. 

YELLOW  CREEK,  July  i,  1908. 
GENTLEMEN. 

Dear  Sir:  I  have  been  seeing  your  ad.  about  that  safety- 
razor  for  a  long  time.  Five  dollars  seems  a  big  price,  but  I 
believe  your  safety-razor  is  all  right.  As  I  have  been  using 
an  old  premium  razor  for  the  past  30  years,  during  which 
time  we  have  used  the  thing  on  hog  killing  days  to  scrape 
the  hogs  with,  you'll  believe  me,  I  know,  when  I  say  that  it's 
getting  pretty  dull.  So  I  shall  be  pleased  if  you'll  send  me 
your  famous  safety-razor  on  30  days'  trial.  If  it  gives  sat- 
isfaction I'll  remit  $4.50  at  the  end  of  the  30  days,  as  by  that 
time  it'll  be  a  second-hand  razor,  and  of  course  you  couldn't 
expect  me  to  remit  the  full  price.  If  it  doesn't  give  satisfac- 
tion I'll  return  it  if  you'll  furnish  the  necessary  stamps. 

Yours  for  a  shave, 
CFH/CFH  CAL.  F.  HEAD. 

YELLOW  CREEK,  July  10,  1908. 
MR.  W.  H.  TAFT,  c/o  MR.  ROOSEVELT. 

Dear  Bill:  We've  got  our  crop  laid  by  and  need  rain 
mighty  badly.  Some  of  the  farmers  around  here  that  are 
reading  the  Woman's  National  Daily  say  you  will  be  presi- 
dent and  some  say  you  won't.  Some  say  Bryan  will  be 
elected  and  some  say  he  won't.  Now,  there  are  a  lot  of  us 
down  here  on  Yellow  Creek  that  are  getting  mighty  anxious 
to  know  which  one  of  you  it's  going  to  be,  and  we  don't  see 
a  bit  of  sense  in  waiting  until  November  to  find  out.  So  I 
4  43 


make  a  motion  that  we  have  the  election  right  away,  by  the 
last  of  the  month,  anyhow,  as  I  want  to  go  away  on  a  visit 
after  that,  and  can't  vote  when  I  ain't  here.  I  will  write  Mr. 
Bryan  a  letter  like  this  as  I  am  sure  he  is  just  as  anxious  to 
know  who  is  going  to  be  elected  as  I  am. 

Hoping  you'll  get  your  heads  together  and  decide  to  have 
the  election  right  away,  I  am — by  the  way,  it's  starting  in 
to  rain  now. 

Yours  for  an  early  election, 

CAL.  F.  HEAD. 

YELLOW  CREEK,  July  20,  1908. 

Dear  Farm  Journal:  I  am  thinking  of  going  into  the 
poultry  business.  As  the  chickens  I  intend  to  buy  are  young 
and  have  not  had  any  experience  in  laying,  I  should  like  to 
get  one  of  your  books  on  Poultry  Business.  I  want  to  take 
it  and  go  into  the  chicken  coop  every  evening  as  the  hens 
go  to  roost  and  read  them  a  chapter,  so  they  will  know  what 
to  do.  Yours  affectionately, 

CAL.  F.  HEAD. 
» 

YELLOW  CREEK,  Aug.  i,  1908. 
HON.  WILLIAM  J.  BRYAN,  LINCOLN,  NEB. 

Dear  Mr.  Bryan:  I  am  highly  pleased  with  that  publicity 
plank  that  you  folks  put  into  the  Democratic  platform  the 
other  day,  and  I  take  pleasure  in  submitting  my  contribution 
of  ten  cents,  which  is  as  large  as  the  hard  Republican  times 
will  permit.  When  you  make  this  contribution  public  please 
give  my  name  in  full. 

Yours  for  Democracy, 

CAL.  F.  HEAD. 

P.  S.  I  understand  I  will  have  to  pay  my  taxes  before  I 
can  vote  this  fall. 

CFH/CFH. 

44 


YELLOW  CREEK,  Aug.  5,  1908. 

Gentlemen:  I  saw  your  ad.  and  want  one  of  those  book- 
lets which  you  say  you  will  send  for  a  stamp.  Times  are 
too  hard  to  spend  much  money  for  stamps,  so  I  am  writing 
this  on  a  post-card  and  enclose  a  stamp  for  the  book.  I  have 
only  licked  the  stamp  half-way,  as  that  is  the  only  way  it 
would  hold  on.  If  you  have  trouble  getting  it  off  please  hold 
it  over  a  steaming  kettle.  That's  the  way  I  do.  I  would 
write  more,  but  this  is  all  I  can  get  on  the  card. 
Yours  for  the  booklet, 

CFH/CFH.  CAL-  F-  HEAD' 

YELLOW  CREEK,  Aug.  6,  1908. 

Gentlemen:    I  am  using  the  Safety-Razor  right  along  and 
you  may  now  cut  that  ad.  out  of  the  magazines. 
Yours  lovingly, 

CFH/CFH.  CAt"  F'  HEAD' 

YELLOW  CREEK,  Aug.  30,  1908. 

Dear  Uncle  Sam:  I  see  you've  passed  a  law  that  news- 
papers shall  not  carry  subscribers  that  haven't  paid.  Now, 
I  wish  to  make  a  complaint.  I  am  getting  one  paper  that  I 
don't  get.  Sometimes  they  miss  two  or  three  copies.  It 
seems  to  me  you  ought  to  pass  a  law  compelling  them  to 
send  the  papers  that  we  do  subscribe  for.  And  there's  an- 
other paper — a  monthly,  that  keeps  on  a  coming,  altho  I 
have  written  again  and  again  to  stop  it,  and  my  subscription 
has  run  out  long  ago.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  a  bad  state  of 
affairs  when  a  man  has  to  waste  500.  in  postage  to  stop  a 
ten-cent  paper.  Please  see  that  the  law  is  enforced. 
Yours  truly, 

CFH/CFH.  CAL-  R  HEAD- 

45 


YELLOW  CREEK,  Sept.  i,  1908. 

Yellow  Creekers  Everywhere:  I  am  writing  this  letter  as 
a  forerunner  to  let  you  know  that  I  am  getting  up  a  scheme 
which  will  prove  of  great  benefit  to  all  who  take  advantage. 
I  will  put  a  big  ad.  in  the  county  paper,  which  will  explain 
all  about  it.  I  write  you  this  letter  so  you'll  be  sure  to  look 
for  the  ad.  This  something  is  just  what  everybody  on  Yel- 
low Creek  needs.  It  will  make  the  lean  man  fat,  the  fat  man 
lean,  the  sick  man  well,  the  poor  man  rich,  the  thief  honest. 
It  will  make  the  Republican  stand  up  and  shout  for  Taft, 
and  it  will  make  the  Democrat  send  his  dollar  contribution 
to  the  headquarters  of  his  party.  It  will  make  the  hair  grow 
again  on  the  bald  heads  of  the  old  men,  and  it  will  make  the 
red  hairs  of  the  red-haired  turn  black.  The  ad.  will  tell 
all  about  it.  Watch  for  the  ad. 

Yours  truly, 

CAL.  F.  HEAD. 

YELLOW  CREEK,  Sept.  15,  1908. 

Yellow  Creekers  Everywhere:    Thanks  for  your  liberal 
response.     As  I've  heard  from  every  Yellow  Creeker  one 
way  or  another  I  guess  I  won't  need  to  print  that  ad. 
Yours  happily, 

CAL.  F.  HEAD. 


YELLOW  CREEK  PHILOSOPHY. 

To  be  happy  keep  your  eyes  on  the  things  you  already 
have  instead  of  the  things  you  want. 


There  is  much  in  the  world  that  is  known,  much  that  is 
not  known,  and  much  that  is  known  that  is  not  believed. 


Some  people  always  seem  to  know  something  which  they 
have  never  told  anyone. 


The  meaning  of  a  woman's  frown  is  often  a  mean  husband. 


Diogenes  sought  for  an  honest  man  with  a  lantern.  To- 
day there  are  many  honest  men  who  would  like  to  be  found 
that  the  world  might  know  of  their  honesty  who  are  looking 
for  a  Diogenes. 


Whether  the  odd-shaped  object  in  the  moon  is  a  man  or  a 
woman,  depends  upon  who  is  looking  at  the  moon.  When 
men  look  it  is  a  woman ;  when  women  look,  it  is  a  man. 


To  some  people  the  journey  of  life  is  full  of  mud  holes. 
In  trying  to  dodge  one  they  run  into  another,  and  the  one 
they  run  into  is  usually  worse  than  the  one  they  succeed  in 
dodging. 


Some  cannot  walk  straight  without  watching  their  neigh- 
bors, and  some  without  being  watched  by  their  neighbors. 


Beginning  on  a  small  scale  is  a  good  weigh. 

47 


That  man  carries  away  the  most  fruit  who  puts  under  the 
tree  of  Life  a  step-ladder  of  faith  and  ascends  to  the  top 
with  a  basket  of  hope. 


Some  men  are  lazy  enough  to  sleep  as  long  as  Rip  Van 
Winkle — if  they  only  knew  how  it  could  be  done. 


Most  farmers  have  their  spring  fever  about  the  middle  of 
the  winter — when  they  begin  to  long  for  spring  to  come. 


If  you  must  speak  ill  of  your  neighbor,  do  it  where  only  a 
mean  man  will  hear  it — that  is,  when  nobody  is  around  but 
yourself. 


Speak  the  truth  in  your  heart,  and  it  will  come  out  of  your 
mouth.  No  man  can  think  a  lie  part  of  the  time  and  speak 
the  truth  all  of  the  time. 


Don't  stop  to  think.    Think  without  stopping. 


Don't  wait  for  opportunity  to  knock  on  your  door.    Hunt 
up  opportunity  and  knock  on  hers. 


There  is  a  place  for  the  man  who  can  talk  nonsense ;  for 
the  man  who  can  talk  sentiment,  and  for  the  man  who  can 
talk  wisdom — but  there  are  fifty  places  for  the  man  who  can 
talk  business. 


Do  not  strive  to  be  a  second  Washington,  nor  a  second 
Webster,  nor  yet  a  second  Lincoln,  but  rather  strive  to  be  a 
first  somebody  who  has  your  own  name. 


Success  comes  to  him  who  works  for  it  as  if  he  could  not 
get  it,  and  stays  with  the  man  who  works  with  it  as  if  he 
could  not  keep  it. 

48 


Whether  the  man  who  parts  with  his  money  is  a  fool  de- 
pends altogether  on  what  he  gets  in  return  for  his  money. 


The  beginning  of  Folly — F,  the  beginning  of  Lunacy — L, 
with  two  nothings  in  the  middle  spells  fool. 


The  man  who  is  a  fool  to-day  will  be  a  fool  to-morrow- 
unless  he  does  something  for  it. 


Some  people  can  say  more  nice  things  about  themselves  in 
half  an  hour  than  all  their  neighbors  could  believe  in  a  year. 


A  man  should  marry  when  he  is  young.  Nobody  likes  an 
old  bachelor  as  well  as  a  young  husband.  The  man  who 
thinks  he  can  save  more  money  by  himself  is  deceiving  some- 
body who  wears  his  own  trousers.  But  the  fellow  who 
thinks  there  is  no  woman  in  his  community  good  enough  for 
him  simply  deceives  a  fool. 


Don't  borrow  money  from  an  unhealthy  man — he  might 
die  before  you  get  a  chance  to  pay  him  back.  Do  not  borrow 
money  from  a  man  who  has  a  weak  heart — he  might  drop 
dead  when  in  after  years  you  approach  him  with  the  intelli- 
gence that  you  have  come  to  pay  your  debt. 


To  be  popular  with  your  friends  dress  as  well  as  they  do 
but  do  not  dress  better  than  they  do.  Never  hang  on  the 
outside  of  yourself  a  lot  of  fine  rags  which  are  more  valuable 
than  the  thing  they  hide.  See  to  it  that  the  matter  in  the 
clothes  is  worth  more  than  the  clothes,  even  if  you  have  to 
wear  a  four-dollar-eighty-five-cent  suit  to  do  it. 


If  you  must  drink  remember  that  the  only  difference  be- 
tween the  man  who  fills  himself  with  booze  and  the  hog  full 
of  slop  is  that  there  is  a  market  for  the  hog. 

49 


The  liquor  traffic  is  in  its  last  struggle  because  men  every- 
where are  coming  to  understand  that  they  cannot  have  the 
Spirit  of  God  in  their  heart  and  the  spirits  of  the  devil  in 
their  stomach  at  the  same  time. 


There  is  no  blue  Monday  to  the  man  who  makes  his 
Sunday  white. 


The  highest  type  of  man  is  the  self-made  man.    The  low- 
est type  is  the  whisky-made  man. 


When  a  man  preaches  the  doctrine  of  sunshine  he  must 
practice  the  doctrine  of  sweat. 


When  a  young  man  does  not  cultivate  his  brains  the  devil 
cultivates  them  for  him  and  raises  weeds. 


Laziness  affords  a  man  time  to  meditate  upon  the  various 
things  he  would  like  to  have  somebody  do  for  him. 


One  of  the  best  ways  in  the  world  to  make  folks  look 
pleasant  is  to  go  about  with  a  camera  and  offer  to  take  their 
pictures. 


The  only  kind  of  lying  some  people  approve  of  is  the  kind 
their  neighbors  indulge  in  when  they  compliment  or  flatter 
them. 


It  is  possible  for  an  author  to  borrow  so  extensively  that 
when  he  gets  his  article  finished  about  all  he  can  claim  as 
absolutely  his  own  is  the  paper  upon  which  it  is  written. 


Pay  as  you  go;  when  you  can,  pay  before  you  go;  when 
you  have  to,  pay  after  you  go!  whatever  the  circumstances, 
pay. 

So 


For  every  fault  that  you  point  out  to  your  friend  tell  him 
of  at  least  three  good  traits.  If  you  cannot  find  that  many 
good  traits  for  every  fault  it  will  not  do  much  good  to  men- 
tion the  faults. 


If  you  must  fill  your  stomach  with  slop  rather  climb  boldly 
into  some  man's  pig-pen  and  stick  your  red  nose  into  the 
trough  and  drink  the  pure  stuff  with  real  hogs,  than  to  sneak 
into  some  saloon  and  there  besot  yourself  with  adulterated 
swill  which  will  do  you  ten  times  more  harm. 


Budweiser,  the  "  king  of  bottled  beers,"  has  not  made  any 
bud  wiser. 


The  horse-trader  who  recommends  his  horse  to  be  "  as 
sound  as  a  dollar  "  may  mean  a  counterfeit  dollar. 


The  man  who  wants  to  be  idle  always  has  an  excuse.  His 
way  of  putting  the  Lord's  prayer  would  be — give  us  this  day 
our  daily  "  loaf." 


Some  men  are  as  honest  as  the  day  is  long,  and  as  honest 
as  the  night  is  long  after  they  go  to  sleep. 


You  can't  put  a  bug  in  some  people's  ears  until  they  have 
been  humbugged. 


You  can  keep  your  neighbor  from  bragging  on  himself 
so  much  by  doing  a  little  bragging  on  him  yourself  as  you 
go  along. 


It  is  more  difficult  for  the  man  who  does  his  preaching 
first  to  practice  up  to  his  preaching  than  it  is  for  the  man 
who  does  his  practicing  first  to  preach  up  to  his  practice. 

Si 


Think  before  you  speak,  while  you  speak,  after  you  speak 
and  whether  you  speak  or  not. 


The  medicine  the  well  man  takes  to  keep  from  getting  sick 
never  tastes  as  bad  as  the  medicine  a  sick  man  takes  to  keep 
from  dying. 


Genius  rises  early.    The  other  fellow  doesn't  rise  at  all — 
he  merely  gets  up  in  time  for  breakfast. 


The  average  man  who  prays,  "  Lead  us  not  into  tempta- 
tion "  means  that  that  is  something  that  he  can  get  into  with- 
out being  lead. 


Never  talk  about  a  thing  you  do  not  intend  to  do,  nor  do  a 
thing  you  will  be  ashamed  to  talk  about  afterwards. 


The  man  who  has  learned  to  read  between  the  lines  should 
practice  the  art  of  giving  out  ideas  between  his  words. 


It  is  fashionable  in  cities  for  a  man  to  have  his  den.    The 
den  has  long  been  a  fad  with  the  farmer,  but  his  is  a  gar-den. 


Simple  interest  is  what  we  take  in  others ;  compound  in- 
terest in  ourselves. 


Some  people  seem  to  be  glad  that  they  have  no  friends, 
and  glad  that  they  are  not  making  any. 


The  cackling  of  the  hen,  the  crowing  of  the  rooster,  the 
grunting  of  the  swine,  the  lowing  of  the  cattle,  the  barking 
of  the  dog,  all  blended  into  one  harmonious  melody,  makes 
the  sweetest  music  on  earth,  without  which  the  farm  would 
be  like  a  stringless  banjo  in  the  hands  of  a  music-loving 
darky. 

52 


The  country,  with  its  broad  roads,  comfortable  houses, 
fruitful  gardens  and  fresh  air,  offers  the  freest,  sweetest,  and 
most  abundant  life  on  earth,  and  he  who  is  happy  in  the 
midst  thereof  is  wise. 


The  great  problem  of  the  farmer  is  this — getting  the  crop 
out  of  the  farm,  getting  the  dollar  out  of  the  crop,  and  happi- 
ness out  of  the  dollar. 


The  man  who  is  always  polite  in  public  has  done  more  or 
less  practising  at  home. 


There  are  some  people  so  honest  that  they  never  deviate 
from  the  truth,  except  when  the  tax  assessor  calls. 


The  boy  who  is  mean  enough  to  tie  a  tin  can  to  a  dog's 
tail  may  himself  have  reason  to  howl  before  night  comes. 


There  is  a  certain  amount  of  fun  in  loving  one's  enemyj — 
it  worries  the  enemy. 


A  man  and  his  frown  are  soon  parted  when  the  optimist 
comes  on  the  scene. 


Some  men  are  as  good  as  any  under  the  sun,  when  they 
are  under  the  sun,  but  their  actions  are  questionable  when 
the  sun  is  under  them. 


As  long  as  it  seems  easy  for  a  man  to  do  wrong  it  will  be 
hard  for  his  friend  to  do  right. 


Talk  is  cheap  but  some  advice  is  worth  a  dollar  a  word. 


Some  men  seem  determined  to  be  good  while  in  church  at 
least,  even  if  they  have  to  sleep  to  do  it. 

53 


A  man  must  die  to  get  into  the  Hall  of  Fame  of  the  New 
York  University.  The  only  other  requirement  is  that  he 
must  have  done  something  while  he  lived. 


Some  of  our  friends  are  mirrors  in  whom  we  see  ourselves 
as  we  are,  while  in  others  we  see  ourselves  as  we  might  be. 


If  love  were  not  blind,  some  men  would  never  get  a  wife. 


Some  men  eat  with  a  coming  appetite ;  some  with  an  appe- 
tite that  has  already  come. 


Some  men  are  content  with  what  is  coming  to  them,  while 
others  also  want  what  they  are  going  after. 


Every  man  should  point  his  toes  toward  success  and  take 
all  of  himself  along  as  he  travels  in  that  direction. 


When  a  salesman  recommends  a  pair  of  shoes,  or  any 
article,  as  being  exceptionally  good,  the  purchaser  should  do 
his  level  best  to  make  it  all  come  true. 


There  are  men  who  worship  the  dollar  and  then  seem  to 
think  that  other  people  ought  to  worship  them  for  possessing 
the  dollar. 


Man  would  soon  tire  of  looking  at  the  beautiful  if  he 
never  had  anything  else  to  look  at. 


Every  man  is  created  in  the  image  of  God,  but  some  men 
have  turned  themselves  over  to  the  Devil  for  remodeling. 


All  the  world  loves  the  lover,  but  not  the  self-lover. 


It  would  do  the  cat  no  good  to  be  able  to  smell  a  mouse  if 
the  mouse  were  able  to  smell  a  cat. 

54 


Everybody  should  run  for  an  office — to  pay  their  taxes 
when  they  come  due. 


Young  man,  learn  a  lesson  from  the  laying  hen.     She 
never  does  much  cackling  until  she  has  done  her  laying. 


The  great  trouble  with  some  men  who  are  imitating  the 
postage  stamps  as  stickers  is  that,  like  the  one-cent  stamp, 
they  stick  to  something  there  is  not  much  in. 


For  every  poor  man  who  seeks  for  food  there  is  probably 
a  rich  man  who  seeks  for  an  appetite.  The  poor  man  usually 
finds  what  he  is  looking  for,  but  the  rich  man  does  not.  It 
is  better  to  have  more  appetite  than  food  than  to  have  more 
food  than  appetite. 


Some  men  are  a  little  below  the  angels,  and  some  are  just 
a  little  above  the  devil. 


For  every  ounce  of  knowledge  a  man  can  get  there  re- 
mains a  pound  he  cannot  get.  The  wisest  man  on  earth  is 
densely  ignorant.  We  are  all  ignorant — but  most  of  us 
haven't  found  it  out  yet. 


Anybody  can  love  his  enemy  as  himself  when  he  is  about 
half  mad  with  himself;  but  when  a  man  is  dressed  up  in  a 
new  suit  of  clothes  there  is  nobody  on  earth  he  loves  half  so 
well  as  the  man  he  sees  when  he  stands  before  a  looking- 
glass. 


For  every  man  who  can  do  things  there  are  half  a  dozen 
men  willing  to  pay  for  having  things  done.  No  man  is  ex- 
cused from  doing  things  unless  he  can  pay  for  having  them 
done.  If  he  can  do  neither  his  particular  line  of  work  is  to 
buy  old  rags  or  mend  old  umbrellas. 

55 


For  every  man  who  can  fill  an  important  place  there  are  a 
half  dozen  important  places  to  be  filled,  and  for  every  little 
place  there  are  a  half  dozen  little  men  to  fill  it. 


Twelve  inches  of  curiosity  make  one  foot  of  fool. 


Do  the  very  best  you  can  to-day,  and  to-morrow  imitate 
yourself. 


Many  a  rich  man  wonders  where  the  appetite  for  the  next 
meal  is  to  come  from. 


It  is  better  to  refer  to  the  dictionary  every  time  when  you 
write  a  letter  than  not  to  know  when  to  refer  to  it. 


A  man  keeps  bad  company.     Good  company  keeps  the 
man. 


The  reason  opportunity  does  not  knock  at  some  doors  is 
that  she  finds  them  already  open. 


Always  put  your  best  foot  forward,  and  be  sure  that  the 
foot  you  hold  back  is  just  as  good. 


A  man  is  sometimes  known  by  the  company  that  is  trying 
to  get  away  from  him. 


The  Bible  should  be  read  a  good  deal  on  Sunday  and  prac- 
ticed a  good  deal  through  the  week. 


Two-faced  people  are  never  double-brained. 


When  a  minister  begins  to  drive  home  the  truth,  there  are 
always  those  in  the  congregation  who  would  feel  more  com- 
fortable if  they  could  go  home,  too. 

56 


The  only  thing  that  can  be  said  against  some  men  is  that 
they  are  poor,  but  most  of  them  came  by  it  honestly. 


If  it  is  a  man's  duty  to  go  to  church,  there  will  be  many 
who  will  have  "  sleeping  on  duty  "  charged  against  them. 


You  cannot  go  to  Heaven  on  a  nickel  a  week,  if  you  have 
more  to  give.    If  you  haven't,  you  can  get  through  on  less. 


Every  day  will  be  Sunday  by-and-by  for  the  man  who 
makes  the  proper  use  of  his  Sundays  now. 


It  is  better  for  people  to  wear  long  faces  because  they 
haven't  any  religion,  than  to  wear  long  faces  because  they 
are  afraid  they  would  not  be  considered  religious  if  they 
didn't. 


The  world  owes  every  man  a  living.    Every  man  owes  the 
world  a  good  life. 


There  are  two  sides  to  the  saloon  question — the  side  that 
wants  to  put  down  the  saloon,  and  the  side  that  wants  to 
put  down  what  is  in  the  saloon. 


When  a  man  goes  from  bad  to  worse,  the  devil  bids  him 
farewell  at  one  place  and  welcomes  him  at  the  other. 


The  telling  of  one  little  falsehood  is  all  that  is  necessary 
to  make  a  man  a  liar. 


A  light  shower  settles  the  dust,  but  a  heavy  rain  settles 
in  full. 


A  cheerful  countenance  is  a  good  asset.    A  gloomy  one  is 
a  backset. 

57 


The  rooster  crows  early  in  the  morning  because  he  is  an 
optimist.  If  he  were  a  pessimist  he  would  not  crow  at  any 
time. 


A  mule  puts  his  best  foot  forward  in  a  backward  way. 


"Pis  a  dull  farm  whose  grind-stone  has  no  turning. 


A  boy's  pranks  are  often  the  result  of  his  boyishness 
getting  out  of  way  to  make  room  for  his  manhood. 


The  time  to  forget  your  promises  is  after  they  have  been 
fulfilled. 


Man's  first  love — with  which  he  never  falls  out — is  him- 
self. 


Following  the  advice  he  gives  to  others  leads  a  man  to 
perfection. 


Some  men  acquire  knowledge  from  what  they  read,  others 
get  it  altho  they  do  not  read,  and  still  others  have  none  altho 
they  do  read. 


RHYMES  AND  JINGLES. 

BEING  IDENTIFIED. 

I  have  just  been  up  t'  the  city,  like, 

On  a  bizness  trip,  more  or  less ; 
I  have  seen  them  great,  big,  sky-scrapin'  things— 

An'  everything  else,  I  guess. 
Well,  sir,  I  stept  into  a  clothin'  house, 

An'  bargained  for  a  daisy  suit, 
With  some  seventeen  pockets  inside  an'  out, 

An'  a  pair  o'  galleses  t'  boot. 
But  when  I  offered  that  clerk-feller  a  check 

On  the  bank  I  have  always  relied, 
He  lookt  me  over  an'  smiled  an'  said, 

"  You'll  have  t'  be  identified." 

"  Is  that  so?  "  sez  I,  sort  o'  turnin'  red, 

An'  also  a  smilin'  some, 
"  My  wife  begged  me  t'  do  that  very  thing 

'Fore  I  ever  made  up  t'  come." 
So  I  hustled  me  off  t'  a  barber  shop, 

For  my  hair  did  seem  kind  o'  long, 
An'  had  him  shave  the  dirt  an'  whiskers  off 

An'  put  a  little  powder  on. 
Then  I  sailed  back  t'  that  feller's  store 

An'  went  a-bouncin'  t'  his  side — 
An'  said,  "  Maybe  ye  don't  hardly  know  me  now, 

Since  I've  had  myself  identified." 

"  That  ain't  what  I  meant  at  all,"  yelled  he, 

A-laughin'  out  loud,  right  thar, 
"  But  I  did  mean  for  ye  t'  bring  some  man 

As  could  inform  me  who  ye  are." 
5  59 


"  I'm  Bill  Jones,"  sez  I,  "  an'  if  ye  don't  know, 

Then  it  ain't  no  fault  o'  mine — 
For  my  name's  been  in  the  paper  eight  times — 

With  this  trip  it's  a-goin'  on  nine, 
An'  the  whole  county  knows  that  old  Bill  Jones, 

Ain't  gone  away  from  home  an'  lied." 
"  That's  all  right,"  sez  he,  "  but  it  ain't  bizness, 

You'll  have  t'  be  identified." 

Now  since  I'm  safely  back  at  home  again, 

Beatin'  city  life  all  t'  smash, 
An'  the  neighbors  joined  hands  a-jokin'  me 

'Count  not  takin'  plenty  o'  cash — 
I'm  wonderin',  when  my  work  on  earth  is  done, 

An'  the  time's  come  for  me  t'  die, 
An'  I've  made  a  bee-line  for  'nother  city 

Somewhere  beyant  the  elyshun  sky ; 
When  at  last  I  am  at  the  gate  an'  knock 

An'  plead  an'  beg  t'  git  inside — 
Will  good  Saint  Peter  hesitate  an'  say — 

"  You'll  have  t'  be  identified." 

Then  I  would  send  for  good  old  Parson  Smith, 

An'  let  him  help  t'  pull  me  thru, 
For  he  heard  me  pray  in  public  once — 

In  fact,  I  think  a  time  or  two ; 
Of  course,  I  slept  the  most  o'  preachin'  time, 

Tho  he  could  say  that  I  was  there — 
But  Saint  Peter  might  hes'tate  again,  an'  say, 

"  That  ain't  bizness,  that  ain't  fair !  " 
Then  let  me  so  live  that  when  my  summons  come 

An'  I  have  laid  me  down  an'  died — 
I  won't  have  a  bit  o'  trouble  then 

A-havin'  myself  identified. 
60 


ON  A  TWO-CENT  FARE. 
I  ain't  done  no  trav'lin' 

T'  amount  t'  much, 
The  fare  has  been  t'  high 

Fer  me  t'  touch ; 
But  I've  been  layin'  off 

T'  go  somewhere, 
Since  now  I  kin  travel 

On  a  two-cent  fare. 

I'm  goin'  t'  San  Francisco, 

An'  swing  on  the  Golden  Gate, 
I'll  stop  off  in  Utah, 

An'  see  the  Great  Salt  Lake; 
I'll  do  the  Yeller  Stone  Park 

An'  see  them  Guysers  rare, 
Fer  now  I  kin  go  some 

On  a  two-cent  fare. 

I'll  fly  t'  New  Orleens 

When  Mardee  Graw  comes  'roun', 
I'll  stop  off  in  Kaintuck 

By  that  hole  in  the  groun' ; 
I'll  run  t'  ole  Virgin', 

Cross  the  nat'ral  bridge  that's  there, 
An'  travel  like  a  gentleman 

On  a  two-cent  fare. 

I'll  jump  t'  Chiggargo, 

T'  hear  the  wind  a-blowin', 
I'll  jump  agin  t'  New  York, 

Jes'  t'  be  a-goin' ; 
I'll  take  in  Bosstown,  too, 

Fer  I  cert'nly  do  declare 
A  feller  oughter  scoot  some 

On  a  two-cent  fare. 
61 


It  ain't  what  y'  make,  nohow, 

But  what  y'  save  all  the  while, 
An'  here  I'll  save  a  dollar 

Ev'ry  hundred  mile ; 
So  I'll  keep  on  movin' 

Till  I've  been  ev'rywhere, 
Then  go  home  an'  be  content 

On  any  kind  o'  fare. 


Mary  has  a  little  lamb, 

And  that's  what  pleases  Mary  so, 
For  she  washes  it  in  Yellow  Creek 

Till  its  fleece  is  white  as  snow. 

LET  'ER  GO ! 

Well,  wife,  I've  said  I'd  sign  th'  pledge, 

An'  I  reckon  it's  now  I  will, 
For  they  tell  me  th'  Leg'slater 

Has  pass'd  th'  State-wide  bill; 
Which  means  th'  s'loon  it's  a-goin', 

An'  tho  t'  some  it's  a  blow, 
'Bout  all  I've  got  t'  say  is, 

All  right,  boys,  let  'er  go ! 

I've  spent  much  time  at  the  Red  Light, 

When  I  oughter  o'  been  at  home ; 
A-drinkin'  with  my  good  comrades 

An'  a-leavin'  you  all  alone. 
But  now  since  th'  place  it's  a-goin', 

I'll  stay  home  o'  nights,  ye  know, 
An'  maybe  I  won't  care  so  much 

That  th'  s'loon  has  had  t'  go. 
62 


I've  spent  much  cash  at  th'  Red  Light, 

That  I  oughter  o'  spent,  I  guess, 
A-buyin'  yo'  some  new  fixin's, 

Er  maybe  some  shoes  er  a  dress. 
But  th'  curse  at  last's  a-goin', 

So,  wife,  you'll  now  git  yo'r  show, 
An'  maybe  we'll  both  be  tickled 

That  th'  s'loon  has  had  t'  go. 

Down  town  there's  a  heap  o'  shoutin', 

By  th'  folks  that  holds  it's  right, 
An'  them  as  thinks  it  ain't,  maybe, 

Are  'bout  riled  enuff  t'  fight. 
O,  look  out  th'  winder,  yonder, 

See  those  chaps  f reezin'  thru  th'  snow  ? 
'Twas  their  dad  they  shot  in  Mike's  s'loon- 

So  I  sez,  boys,  let  'er  go! 

This  old  world's  gittin'  wiser  some, 

An'  maybe,  too,  much  better ; 
Anyhow,  she's  turning  dryer, 

An'  nowhere's  any  wetter. 
Yep,  th'  s'loon  it's  sure  a-goin', 

An'  I'm  thinkin',  wife,  do  ye  know, 
T'  jes'  jine  hands  with  th'  crowd 

That's  makin'  'er  pull  out  an'  go. 

CORN  SHUCKIN'  TIME. 

Dear  old  summer's  a-biddin'  adieu ; 

An'  nature's  a-puttin'  on  a  golden  hue ; 

An'  by  the  rooster's  crowin',  the  hen's  cackle ; 

The  bleatin'  o'  the  sheep,  the  lowin'  o'  the  cattle ; 

The  barkin'  o'  the  dog,  the  gruntin'  o'  the  swine ; 

You  can  tell  that  it's  corn  shuckin'  time. 

63 


Hunt  the  file  an'  whetstone,  sharpen  up  the  pins ; 

Get  a  saw  an'  hammer,  straighten  out  the  bins ; 

Buy  a  box  o'  axle  grease,  dob  it  on  the  trucks ; 

Patch  out  the  "  end  gates,"  put  the  "  side-boards  "  up. 

Call  in  the  mules  an'  drive  'em  "  down  the  line," 

Don't  you  hear  them  brayin'  ? — "  It's  corn  shuckin'  time.' 

Get  out  an'  hustle,  boys,  never  mind  the  frost ; 
Keep  up  the  "  down  row,"  let  not  an  ear  be  lost ; 
Sail  'em  in  the  wagon,  pile  'em  way  up  high ; 
You'll  drive  in  with  your  "  forty  "  bye  an'  bye ; 
Hollow  "  hoo-a-hoo-a-hoo !  " — yell  it  out  sublime, 
Let  the  country  know  that  it's  corn  shuckin'  time. 

Now  I'm  in  my  glory,  f eelin'  best  of  all ; 

Never  feel  that  way,  'ceptin'  of  a  fall ; 

When  the  table's  laden  with  fruits  the  summer  bore, 

An'  a  feller  feels  like  eatin'  more  an'  more,  an'  more. 

You  fellers  in  the  city,  your  lot's  nuthin'  side  o'  mine, 

Down  here  in  the  country  when  it's  corn  shuckin'  time. 

CHILDHOOD'S  SPRINGTIME. 

The  sun's  peepin'  fru  the  popla's, 

An'  jes'  a  laffin  at  me, 
But  I  ain't  doin'  t'  dit  up,  I  ain't, 

'Till  Ma  kums  in  t'  pat  me. 

I  jes'  like  t'  lay  here  an'  lis'n 

T'  the  noise  and  ev'rythin' 
'At  the  cat'l  an'  hogs  's  makin' 

'Cause  they'so  awful  dlad  it's  sprin'. 

An'  the  birds  's  all  a-twitter'n, 
An'  the  hired  han's  's  hummin', 

But  I'se  dot  up  'is  very  minit, 
'Cause  I  hear  my  Ma  kummin. 
64 


"  Why,  Ma,  Fse  up  a'  ready,"  I  say, 

An'  dit  the  duds  t'dedder, 
N'n  Ma  looks  in  t'  the  door  an'  say, 

"  Lazy  bugger !    You'd  better !  " 

Pa  say  he  'spects  I'se  dot  sprin'  fever, 

O  me,  but  Fse  ruther  not, 
'Cause  I  had  a  case  o'  fever  wunce 

An'  the  dokter  kum  a  lot 

But  Pa  say  if  I'll  pile  up  sum  wood 
Why,  I'll  keep  well  ev'ry  day ; 

So  'spect  I'll  help  Pa  jes'  a  li'l 
An'  keep  the  ol'  dokter  'way. 

BROWNING. 

Altho  'tis  dressed  in  Browning  style, 
In  obscure  rhyme,  and  all  that ! 

And  you  have  to  stop  and  think  awhile, 
A  thot's  a  thot  for  all  that, 

For  all  that,  and  all  that : 

A  Browning  thot,  tho  e'er  so  obscure 

Is  a  king  of  thots  for  all  that. 


There  was  a  young  farmer  whose  pay  was  good ; 
He  did  everything  the  best  way  he  could : 

He  rolled  up  his  sleeves 

Half  way  to  his  knees, 
And  beat  everybody  in  the  neighborhood. 


I  did  a  good  deed  to-day ; 

The  joy  of  it  lingers  still. 
I  could  do  another  to-morrow, 

And  I  rather  think  I  will. 
65 


When  the  days  are  sort  o'  dark  like, 

An'  the  sun  won't  shine  at  all ; 
When  the  whole  thing's  kind  o'  puzzlin', 

An'  your  prospects  V  awful  small ; 
When  perplexities  keep  comin' 

'Till  all  hope's  skipt  out  an'  gone, 
Then  jus'  settle  down  t'  bizness 

An'  go  on  a-goin'  on. 


The  tune  of  life  we  play, 
With  just  one  note  to-day 

And  another  one  to-morrow ; 
Some  of  the  notes  are  glad 
And  some  of  them  are  sad, 

But  there  is  more  joy  than  sorrow. 


'Tis  far  better  to  pray, 

I  say! 

Before  the  thing  is  begun 
Than  do  it  in  such  a  way, 

I  say! 
You'll  need  to  pray  when  'tis  done. 


There  was  a  young  farmer  whose  name  was  Brown, 
He  packed  up  his  trunk  and  he  moved  to  town ; 
There  came  a  panic  that  gave  him  alarm; 
So  he  packed  his  trunk  and  came  back  to  the  farm. 


Let  the  merchant  advertise, 
The  farmer  fertilize, 
The  minister  spiritualize, 
And  the  lawyer  talkolies. 
66 


A  farmer  who  belonged  to  the  smart  set, 
On  running  his  farm  had  his  heart  set, 

A  man  came  to  buy, 

The  farmer  said,  "  I 
With  this  farm  am  not  ready  to  part  yet." 


"  Hitch  your  wagon  to  a  star," 
And  without  any  braggin' 

Let  the  world  know 

That  you  are  in  the  wagon. 


There  is  a  certain  Line, 
Trains  running  all  the  time 
Work-train  the  only  kind. 
Paystation  at  all  the  bends, 
Success — the  journey  ends, 
Depot  crowded  with  friends. 


Lives  of  drunk  men  all  remind  us 
We  should  oust  the  traffic  quick. 

And,  departing,  leave  behind  us 
Footprints  everywhere  we  kick. 


There  was  a  young  woman  named  Henderson 
Who  didn't  know  where  to  send  her  son, 

The  panic  was  on, 

Her  money  was  gone, 
And  nobody  would  lend  her  some. 
67 


ON  WALKING. 

Seems  to  me  that  anybody  would 
Want  to  walk  when  the  roads  are  good ; 
There's  time  enough  to  ride,  I  claim, 
When  the  roads  get  bad  again. 

Pessimist  says  he  wouldn't  walk, 
Unless,  perchance,  the  mule  should  balk ; 
He  says  because  the  roads  are  wide, 
Would  show  that  they  were  made  to  ride. 

Optimist  thinks  the  best  thing  on  earth 
Is  to  stretch  his  legs  for  all  they're  worth ; 
He  says  he  is  glad  that  the  roads  are  wide, 
So  folks  can  walk  there  side  by  side. 

Tell  you,  tho,  of  a  thot  I  have  had 
About  this  very  walking  fad — 
I  think  walking  is  just  simply  fine, 
If  you  don't  take  too  much  at  a  time. 

THE  LAUGH-MAKING  MAN. 

There's  the  half  of  a  laugh 
In  his  bad, 

For  the  whole  of  his  soul 
Is  but  glad. 

There's  a  smile  worth  the  while 
In  his  past, 

There's  a  mirth  in  the  earth 
That  will  last. 

Here  and  there,  everywhere 
In  the  land, 

There's  a  laugh  for  the  laugh- 
Making  man. 
68 


There's  a  fun  that  will  come 
When  he's  gay, 

With  a  sweet  that  will  keep 
All  the  day. 

There's  a  measure  full  of  pleasure, 
Tho  he's  poor, 

There's  a  thrill  for  each  ill 
That  will  cure. 

Here  and  there,  everywhere 
In  this  land, 

There's  a  laugh  for  the  laugh- 
Making  man. 


THE  OPTIMISTIC  PHILOSOPHER. 

Lots  o'  fools  't  seems  t'  me, 
Pessimistic  all  the  day — 

Takes  a  man  with  sense,  I  guess, 
T'  be  t'other  way. 

Pessimist  he  says  he  thinks 

All  is  black  as  sin — 
An'  I  reckon  it  does 

Look  that  way  t'  him. 

He  believes  that  all  the  good 

Has  a  bit  of  taint, 
An'  not  a  soul  is  honest, 

Just  because  he  ain't. 

He  thinks  that  only  bad 

Ever  comes  to  pass, 
An'  everybody's  got  dispepsia 

Just  because  he  has. 
69 


An'  then  he  thinks  he  thinks 
That  it's  everybody's  biz, 

T*  be  a  great  big  dunce 
Just  because  he  is. 

Lots  o'  fools,  't  seems  t'  me, 
Pessimistic  all  the  day — 

Takes  a  man  with  sense,  I  guess, 
T'  be  t'other  way. 

ANTE-DINNER  PHILOSOPHY. 

Doan'  yo'  wish  yo'  eyes  wuz  keener, 
So's  yo'  c'd  see  what  de  folks  all  do, 

An'  what  yo'  see  dey  all  a-doin', 

Yo'  sho'  'nuff  see  plum  froo  an'  froo? 

Doan'  yo'  wish  yo'  ears  wuz  sharper, 
So's  yo'  c'd  hear  what  de  folks  all  say, 

'Cause  what  yo'  hear  dey  all  a-sayin', 
Sho'  nuff  keep  yo'  laughin'  all  de  day  ? 

Doan'  yo'  wish  yo'  laigs  wuz  longer, 

So's  yo'  c'd  run  froo  de  darkes'  holler, 

Lak'  a  gang  o'  mules  a-scootin' 
Dat  no  ghos'  ain'  gwine  t'  foller? 

Doan'  yo'  wish  yo'  hands  wuz  stronger, 

So's  yo'  c'd  do  de  work  o'  ten, 
An'  de  boss  he  raise  yo'  sal'ry, 

'Bout  de  time  he  bounce  de  other  men  ? 

Doan'  yo'  wish  no  sich  foolishness, 
But  min'  what  I  tells  you,  nigger, 

Yo'  put  in  all  yo'  time  a-wishin' 
Dat  yo'  stumick  hit  wuz  bigger. 
70 


RHYME  OF  A  DOZEN. 

One  step  at  a  time, 

That's  the  way  we  must  walk ; 
One  word,  then  another, 

That's  the  way  we  must  talk. 

Two  eyes,  wide  open, 

That's  the  way  we  must  learn ; 
Two  hands  quite  busy, 

That's  the  way  we  must  earn. 

Three  meals  every  day, 

That's  the  way  we  must  live ; 

Three  dollars  a  pair 

For  good  shoes  we  must  give. 

Four  horses  to  work, 

That's  the  way  we  must  farm ; 
Four  in  the  morning, 

Sometimes  set  the  alarm. 

Five  o'clock,  daylight, 
To  breakfast  we  must  go ; 

Five  cents  a  yard 
We  must  pay  for  calico. 

Six  days  in  the  week, 

We  must  stop  working  then ; 
Six  cows  to  milk 

Morn,  and  at  night  again. 

Seventh  day  at  last, 

We  must  rest,  read  and  pray, 
And  like  a  good  Christian 

Enjoy  the  whole  day. 


Eight  hours  to  sleep, 

Rainy  mornings  add  a  half ; 

Eight  dollars  to  get 

For  our  every  veal  calf. 

Nine  is  the  number 

Of  little  pigs  often  found ; 
Nine  cents,  a  good  price, 

For  the  old  hens  per  pound. 

Ten  ears  of  corn 

To  the  horse  must  be  fed ; 
Ten  o'clock  at  night 

All  must  be  in  the  bed. 

Eleven,  nearly  noon, 

Don't  let  dinner  be  late ; 
Eleven  bee  hives, 

My !  the  honey  they'll  make. 

Twelve  short  hours, 

And  the  day  has  been  run ; 
Twelve  short  months, 

And  another  year  is  done. 

HOW  TO  TELL  THE  NEWS. 

When  you  hear  a  bit  of  news  that  is  good — 
News  that  would  make  me  smile  if  I  knew  it ; 

Just  come  to  me  as  quickly  as  you  can, 

And  I  won't  care  if  you  add  something  to  it. 

When  you  hear  a  bit  of  news  that  is  bad — 
News  that  a  lesson  you  think  might  teach  me; 

Just  come  to  me  as  slowly  as  you  can, 

And  try  to  forget  the  worst  ere  you  reach  me. 
72 


JUST  THINKING. 

Jes'  a-thinkin',  jes'  a-thinkin', 
'Bout  de  good  times  we'se  had, 

T'  fergit  'em,  I'm  a-thinkin', 
'D  be  a  heap  too  bad. 

Jes'  a-thinkin',  jes'  a-thinkin', 

'Bout  de  good  times  dat's  t'  come, 

So's  t'  be  ready,  I'm  a-thinkin', 
Fer  t'  enjoy  de  fun. 


A  TUNE  TO  WHISTLE. 

Play  me  a  tune  dat's  new,  Boss, 

One  I  kin  whis'le; 
A  sho'  'nuff  tune  dat'll  do,  Boss, 

Jes'  fo'  t'  whis'le. 

All  de  tunes  dat  I  kno',  Boss, 

Will  do  t'  whis'le ; 
So  I  wants  mo'  tunes  dat'll  go,  Boss, 

Fine  fo'  t'  whis'le. 


LIVING  LIKE  A  WHITE  MAN. 

De  sun  keep  on  a-shinin', 

An'  de  wint'r  wood  am  cut; 
De  hick'ry  nuts  bin  gether'd, 

An'  dun  piled  up  in  de  hut. 
De  panic  hit  am  ovah, 

An'  dis  am  what  I  'low — 
I'm  mighty  nigh  a-livin' 

Like  a  white  man  now. 

73 


De  chickens  dey  am  scratchin', 

An'  a-layin'  now  an'  then ; 
De  hawgs  dey  am  a-fattenin', 

An'  a-gruntin'  in  de  pen. 
De  panic  hit  am  ovah, 

An'  dis  am  what  I  'low — 
I'm  mighty  nigh  a-livin' 

Like  a  white  man  now. 


De  apples  dey  am  ripen'd, 

An'  dey  am  mighty  mellah ; 
De  taters  am  all  dug,  sah, 

An'  a-fillin'  up  de  cellah. 
De  panic  hit  am  ovah, 

An'  dis  am  what  I  'low — 
I'm  mighty  nigh  a-livin' 

Like  a  white  man  now. 


LEARN  TO  LAUGH. 

If  you  haven't  laughed  to-day, 

You  had  better  laugh  right  now, 
Lest  some  day  you  will  want  to 

And  won't  remember  how. 
When  you  meet  a  thing  that's  good 

Enough  to  laugh  about, 
Don't  smile  or  smirk  or  giggle — 

But  ha!  ha!  ha!  right  out. 

When  you  have  learned  the  art, 
No  matter  what  goes  wrong, 

You'll  know  just  how  to  laugh 
Till  all  your  trouble's  gone. 
74 


And  when  there's  something  bad 
Enough  to  make  you  pout, 

You  won't  frown  or  worry, 
But  ha!  ha!  ha!  right  out. 

The  man  who  is  getting  better, 

And  happier,  too,  by  half, 
Is  the  man  who  doesn't  smile 

When  he  owes  the  world  a  laugh. 
Heaven  is  a  laughter-land 

We  don't  know  much  about, 
Except  that  the  folks  up  there 

All  ha !  ha !  ha !  right  out. 


75 


THE  YELLOW  CREEK  HUMORIST  IN 
PUBLIC. 

A  NEW  NAME  FOR  "  SUNSHINE  "  HAWKS. 

When  William  J.  Burtscher  introduced  "  Sunshine " 
Hawks  to  a  Tennessee  audience  recently  he  gave  him  a  new 
name.  As  Mr.  Hawks  had  spent  a  week  in  the  town,  giving 
most  of  the  audience  an  opportunity  to  meet  him  personally, 
the  name  was  favorably  received.  This  is  the  introduction: 

"  Four  years  ago  I  heard  Mr.  Hawks  deliver  his  famous 
lecture  on  '  Sunshine  and  Shadow.'  I  enjoyed  it  to  such  an 
extent  that  for  the  hour  I  forgot  that  I  owed  any  man  a 
dollar.  Bill  collectors  might  come  on  the  morrow,  as  they 
had  the  day  before,  but  I  knew  it  not,  and  cared  not.  As  I 
enjoyed  the  sensation  of  being  square  with  the  world,  when 
the  opportunity  came  two  years  later  to  hear  Mr.  Hawks  a 
second  time  I  was  in  the  audience.  And  to-night,  as  I  am 
still  owing  those  same  old  debts,  I  shall  be  happy  once  more. 
It  affords  me  pleasure  to  present  to  you  a  man  who,  during 
the  few  days  he  has  been  in  our  midst,  we  have  learned  to 
love  as  a  friend,  a  brother,  a  father,  and  whose  character  is 
so  sweet  that  I  must  call  him  '  Honey-shine '  Hawks." 

INTRODUCING  HAL  MERTON. 

W.  J.  Burtscher,  of  Ruskin,  Tennessee,  writing  to  his 
friend,  A.  W.  Hawks,  whom  he  addresses  as  "  Dear  Daddie 
Hawks,"  tells  of  his  introducing  Hal  Merton — an  introduc- 
tion which  our  readers  will  enjoy. 

"  We  had  Hal  Merton,  the  magician,  with  us  the  other 
night.  At  the  eleventh  hour  I  was  asked  to  introduce  him. 

76 


If  it  will  not  bore  you  I  will  tell  you  what  I  said :  '  We  are 
glad  to  see  so  many  of  you  out — though  I  am  sorry  you  are 
not  out  more  than  twenty-five  cents,  for  the  entertainment 
is  worth  it.  There  is  only  one  dry  part  in  the  entertainment 
and  that  is  the  introduction,  which  is  now  being  made.  We 
have  heard  Luther  P.  Manship,  who  talked  to  us  about  the 
darky;  we  have  heard  Sunshine  Hawks,  who  talked  to  us 
about  the  dark  and  bright  sides  of  life ;  we  have  heard  Dr. 
Lin  Cave,  who  talked  to  us  about  Robert  E.  Lee;  we  have 
heard  Prof.  Cornelius,  who  talked  to  us  about  one  thing  and 
another — and  to-night  we  have  with  us  one  who  is  to  talk 
to  us  about ' — here  I  turned  to  look  at  Mr.  Merton,  then  I 
took  out  of  my  pockets  one  of  his  folders,  looked  through  it, 
and  then  looking  at  the  clock,  said — '  he  is  to  talk  to  us  about 
an  hour.  It  affords  me  pleasure  (they  all  say  that,  don't 
they?)  to  introduce  the  greatest  magician;  the  greatest 
juggler,  which  does  not  mean  to  perform  with  jugs ;  the 
greatest  legerdemainist,  which  does  not  mean  to  perform 
with  one's  legs ;  the  greatest  pres — a  word  which  it  takes 
the  average  person  about  three  hours  to  pronounce — pres- 
tidigitator, which  means  to  compress,  express  and  depress 
with  a  "  git  there  gait " ;  the  greatest  ventriloquist — who 
has  ever  visited  Ruskin — Mr.  Merton.'  " 

HE  MAKES  RESOLUTIONS. 

Resolved,  That  I  will  be  myself,  wholly  myself,  and  no- 
body but  myself. 

That  I  will  practice  the  habit  of  early  rising,  hard  early 
thinking,  and  much  early  working. 

That  I  will  read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  before  breakfast 
and  live  one  afterwards. 

That  I  will  do  more  or  less  thinking  on  my  feet  during 
the  day,  and  also  a  certain  amount  of  thinking  on  my  knees. 

That  I  will  be  an  optimist  every  hour  in  the  day. 

77 


That  I  will  depend  on  most  of  my  happiness  to  come  from 
making  others  happy. 

That  I  will  smile  more  and  frown  less,  think  more  and 
talk  less,  praise  more  and  scold  less. 

That  I  will  listen  attentively  to  at  least  one  sermon  per 
week,  even  if  I  have  to  preach  it  myself. 

That  I  will  take  time  to  look  after  my  health  while  it  is 
good  to  keep  myself  from  getting  sick;  and  should  any  of 
my  neighbors  get  sick  I  will  make  it  a  point  to  visit  them 
often. 

That  I  will  read  these  resolutions  at  least  once  a  month ; 
and  when  I  find  that  I  have  broken  one,  I  will  at  once  pro- 
ceed to  patch  it  up. 

HE  TELLS  A  STORY. 

William  J.  Burtscher  told  the  following  story  at  the  West 
End  bazaar  the  other  evening,  and  it  created  a  storm  of 
laughter : 

"  A  farmer  came  to  town  driving  an  old  mule.  Not  know- 
ing he  could  water  him  at  the  public  trough,  the  farmer 
drove  his  mule  down  into  the  river  to  quench  his  thirst. 
When  through  drinking  the  mule  squatted  down  and  rolled 
over  several  times,  getting  mud  all  over  him. 

"  As  the  farmer  was  driving  up  Main  street  a  newsboy  was 
coming  down  the  street  with  a  bunch  of  papers  under  his 
arm,  crying :  '  Courier !  Courier ! '  The  boy  offered  to  sell 
the  farmer  a  paper.  '  Courier,  Mister  ? '  he  asked.  The 
farmer  replied:  '  Not  now,  sonny,  but  you  jest  wait  till  I 
get  home  an'  I'll  curry  her  with  a  club.'  " 

AS  A  LECTURE-ENTERTAINER. 

Prof.  Wm.  J.  Burtscher,  instructor  in  Ruskin-Cave  Col- 
lege, and  editor-lecturer,  is  one  of  the  most  original  humor- 
ous lecturers  in  the  field  to-day.  Mr.  Burtscher  has  never 

78 


identified  himself  with  any  lecture  bureau  for  the  reason  that 
he  had  a  good  income  from  other  sources — enough  to  keep 
him  going — and  lectured  more  for  his  own  personal  gratifi- 
cation than  anything  else.  In  fact  he  himself  didn't  think 
much  of  his  lectures. 

His  friends  are  now  urging  him  to  go  on  the  platform  as 
a  professional  lecturer.  He  is  young  and  gives  excellent 
promise  of  a  brilliant  future.  His  local  popularity  is  firm. 
No  greater  compliment  could  be  paid  a  lecturer  than  to  say 
that  his  crowds  are  largest  and  most  enthusiastic  where  he 
is  best  known.  This  holds  good  in  Prof.  Burtscher's  case 
here  at  Ruskin,  he  having  appeared  before  the  student  body 
of  Ruskin-Cave  College  time  and  time  again  in  deference 
to  their  repeated  calls  (and  they  do  say  that  college  people 
are  the  hardest  class  on  earth  to  suit)  and  each  succeeding 
appearance  drew  a  larger  crowd  and  elicited  heartier 
applause. 
Ruskin,  Tenn.,  6-n-'o8.  R.  J.  KELLY. 

INCIDENTS  OF  HIS  FIRST  LECTURE  TOUR. 

At  Chrisney,  Ind.,  my  audience  was  small  on  account  of 
the  bad  weather.  In  my  opening  remarks  I  said :  "  The  rain 
need  not  bother  us.  I  always  could  sleep  best  when  it  rained. 
So  if  any  of  you  are  in  the  habit  of  sleeping  in  church,  you 
will  find  the  rain  to  your  advantage." 

This  small  audience  was  composed  of  people  who  had 
worked  so  hard  during  the  day  that  they  could  not  walk  to 
the  front  seats.  They  were  evidently  so  tired  that  they  were 
glad  to  drop  into  the  first  vacant  seat  near  the  door.  The 
pastor  had  given  them  an  invitation  to  come  forward.  Only 
a  few  responded.  I  added,  "  It  would  be  an  injustice  to  me 
for  you  folks  back  there  to  stay  back  there.  From  where  you 
are  you  will  think  I  am  good  looking,  and  you  will  go  about 
town  to-morrow,  saying  that  I  was  a  good-looking  man. 

79 


Now,  if  you  will  come  to  the  front  where  you  can  see  my 
features  better  you  will  not  commit  such  a  sin." 

"Where  do  you  go  from  here?"  asked  a  man  after  the 
lecture  in  Chrisney. 

"  I  am  going  to  Dale,"  I  replied.  Dale  was  eleven  miles 
away. 

"  That's  the  nearest  to  nothing  of  any  town  I  ever  saw," 
remarked  the  man. 

I  found  Dale  a  beautiful  little  town,  especially  when  com- 
pared to  Chrisney.  I  told  the  above  estimation  of  their  town 
to  my  audience  and  added :  "  I  have  no  idea  what  the  man 
meant,  unless  he  meant  that  Chrisney  is  '  Nothing  '  and  Dale 
is  near  to  it." 

In  a  small  town  in  Indiana  I  took  a  walk  after  supper.  I 
met  a  farmer  who  asked : 

"Are  you  the  feller  that's  goin'  t'  lecture  here  t'night?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  come  out  and  I'll  put  you  to  sleep." 

"  Well,  sir,"  answered  the  man  with  a  laugh,  "  that  would 
not  be  very  hard  to  do." 


I  was  walking  up  Franklin  street  in  Clarksville,  Tenn. 
My  attention  was  drawn  to  a  barber  on  the  opposite  side 
who  was  motioning  for  me  to  pay  him  a  visit.  I  will  confess 
that  my  hair  was  somewhat  long,  but  it  is  such  beautiful 
hair — so  my  wife  and  friends  tell  me — that  I  always  let  it 
grow  as  long  as  the  public  will  stand,  but  when  small  boys 
begin  to  point  their  fingers  at  a  man,  and  greet  him  as 
"  Reub,"  and  the  barbers  begin  to  throw  gestures  in  his 
direction,  then  it  is  about  one  and  a  half  months  past  the 
time  when  he  should  have  had  his  hair  cut.  So  I  took  the 
hint  and  stepped  into  the  man's  shop. 

"  You  think  my  hair  needs  cutting,  do  you?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  modest  reply,  "  that's  why  I  beckoned 
to  you." 

80 


"  I  am  very  particular  about  my  hair,"  I  remarked  as  I 
seated  myself,  "  I  want  you  to  trim  it  the  least  bit,  so  that 
after  you  are  thru,  nobody  will  be  able  to  tell  that  my  hair 
has  been  cut." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  barber  as  he  began  on  the  job.  He 
was  a  very  quiet  man  for  the  profession.  I  finally  observed : 

"  You  do  not  talk  much.  I  have  always  heard  that  barbers 
were  great  talkers." 

He  was  silent  longer  than  I  wanted  him  to  be.  I  began 
to  fear  that  he  did  not  intend  to  answer. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  I  don't  believe  in  boring  my  cus- 
tomers. Most  barbers  talk  too  much.  A  fellow  can't  do  a 
good  job  on  a  man's  hair  and  talk  too  much.  Many  years 
ago,  when  pompadour  was  the  style,  I  had  a  rear  chair  in  a 
certain  shop.  A  man  entered  who  wanted  to  know  if  there 
was  a  man  in  that  shop  who  could  do  a  first-class  job  on  a 
pompadour.  He  was  directed  to  my  chair.  I  never  said  a 
word  to  the  man,  but  did  my  best.  As  the  man  went  out  he 
was  asked  how  he  liked  the  work.  '  I  am  well  satisfied,'  he 
said,  '  but  that's  the  first  deaf  and  dumb  barber  I  ever  saw.'  " 

The  man  did  so  well  that  I  complimented  him.  "  You 
see,"  he  assured  me,  "  I  put  my  whole  attention  to  your  hair. 
If  I  had  talked,  too,  I  would  have  cut  off  too  much." 

Here  is  a  lesson  from  the  silent  barber,  A.  W.  Firse,  133 
Franklin  street,  Clarksville,  Tenn.  You  cannot  be  a  good 
talker  and  a  good  barber  too.  Let  us  talk  less  and  do  more. 


I  was  pleasantly  entertained  by  Rev.  Cal  Richardson,  of 
Opdyke,  111.  Bro.  Richardson  is  a  Missionary  Baptist  and 
a  capital  story  teller.  He  told  of  a  revival  meeting  which 
was  being  held  in  a  small  town  in  Illinois,  where  it  seemed 
hard  to  keep  order.  The  boys  would  disturb  the  meeting  in 
some  way  almost  nightly.  One  night  while  the  minister  was 
preaching  one  rowdy  began  to  dance  a  jig  on  the  front  steps. 

81 


"  Won't  some  brother  go  out  there  and  ask  those  boys  to 
behave  themselves  ?  "  inquired  the  preacher. 

"  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  use,"  replied  Bro.  Richard- 
son, rising,  "  anybody  mean  enough  to  do  that  wouldn't  have 
sense  enough  to  know  what  you  meant  if  you  asked  them  to 
behave  themselves." 

Here  is  another  of  Bro.  Richardson's  stories.  He  had 
been  preaching  from  the  text,  "  Bridle  your  Tongues."  That 
night  several  bridles  were  stolen,  upon  which  Bro.  Richard- 
son remarked :  "  Somebody  seems  to  have  misunderstood  my 
sermon,  "  Bridle  your  Tongues."  They  must  have  thought 
they  would  need  horse  bridles  to  bridle  their  fool  tongues 
with." 


While  in  Cannelton,  Ind.,  I  heard  of  a  man  who  after 
swallowing  a  few  drinks  of  whiskey  whipped  his  mother-in- 
law.  The  town  wag  remarked  that  that  particular  brand  of 
whiskey  is  guaranteed  to  make  a  man  walk  five  miles  just 
for  a  chance  to  throw  a  rock  at  his  mother-in-law.  That  is 
the  best  the  devil  can  do  for  a  man.  When  God  intoxicates 
a  man  he  will  want  to  walk  five  miles  to  do  his  mother-in- 
law  a  favor. 

I  left  Cannelton  on  a  real  "  Accommodation  "  train.  Be- 
tween stations  we  came  to  a  sudden  stop  and  backed  up 
some  hundred  yards.  An  accident?  Yes,  a  man  had  stuck 
his  head  out  of  an  open  window  and  lost  his  hat.  The  flag- 
man jumped  off,  recovered  the  hat  and  handed  it  to  the 
delighted  owner. 


McCutchanville,  Ind.,  gave  me  the  largest  and  most  en- 
thusiastic audience  of  the  trip.  I  was  so  pleased  with  the  re- 
sponse that  I  remarked  at  the  close  that  I  should  be  pleased 
if  I  could  take  the  crowd  with  me  from  town  to  town.  This 
was  an  ovation. 

82 


The  smallest   and  sleepiest  audience  was   composed  of 
colored  folks.    This  was  an  innovation. 


At  Evansville,  Ind.,  I  met  Ernest  Charles  House,  editor 
of  Progress  Magazine,  Indianapolis.  Mr.  House  is  a  bril- 
liant young  man.  Of  all  he  said  I  remember  best  his  defini- 
tion of  greatness.  It  is  this :  "  Greatness  is  simplicity 
educated." 


While  in  the  vicinity  of  Mt.  Vernon,  111.,  I  was  told  the 
following  story  of  a  young  man  who  had  gone  to  the  polls 
to  vote  for  the  first  time.  "  Say,  you  fellers,  you'll  have  to 
show  me  how  to  vote,"  he  said,  "  this  is  my  first  time." 
"What's  your  name?"  asked  the  clerk.  "Jenkins,  sir." 
"  What  are  your  initials  ?  "  "  Sir  ?  "  "  What  are  your  ini- 
tials ?  "  "  Straight  Democratic !  " 


At  Dale,  Ind.,  a  young  lady  offered  to  take  my  picture 
with  a  camera.  I  objected  on  the  ground  that  it  might  break 
the  camera.  She  said :  "  I  guess  not.  The  other  day  I  took 
a  donkey's  picture  with  it  and  didn't  break  it." 


One  of  the  most  pleasant  days  I  spent  at  Clifton,  Tenn., 
which  is  located  on  the  Tennessee  River.  While  this  is  a 
small  town,  yet  there  were  at  least  seven  or  eight  hundred 
people — who  did  not  attend  the  lecture. 


At  Johnsonville,  Tenn.,  I  met  the  notorious  Ike  Snort, 
who  has  been  writing  humorous  letters  for  the  larger  dailies 
for  the  past  fifteen  years.  At  Huntingdon,  Tenn.,  I  met  the 
author  of  the  widely  copied  "  Hogwallow  Happenings." 

That's  all  for  the  present.  Perhaps  more  later.  The  tour 
has  been  profitable  to  myself,  and  I  hope  to  others.  I  had  at 
least  $50,000.02  worth  of  fun  and  something  like  $200,000.01 
worth  of  experience. 

83 


HEARD  IN  HIS  LECTURES. 

In  its  first  stages  love  is  blind.  Of  course,  it  is  blind.  If 
it  were  not,  one-half  of  the  men  would  be  unable  to  get 
wives — one-half  of  the  married  men  of  this  audience  would 
be  old  bachelors.  In  its  second  stages  love  gets  its  eyes 
opened.  That  occurs  after  marriage.  Then  the  man  sees 
in  the  woman  what  he  thought  was  there,  and  the  woman 
sees  in  the  man  what  she  hoped  was  there.  Love  is  the 
sweetest,  the  happiest,  the  sublimest  when  it  has  its  eyes 
open. 


The  honeymoon  is  much  like  the  moon  in  the  skies — there 
is  a  man  in  it,  and  there  is  a  woman  in  it.  In  fact,  you  could 
not  have  a  honeymoon  without  these  two  ingredients — one 
to  furnish  the  honey  and  the  other  to  furnish  the  m-m-money. 


Another  thing  about  the  honeymoon,  it  rises  in  the  even- 
ing of  man's  courtship,  and  according  to  the  dictionary  is 
supposed  to  set  at  the  end  of  the  first  month  after  marriage, 
but  according  to  the  way  some  married  people  live  it  does 
not  end  at  all.  If  this  were  true  with  all  marriages,  whether 
timely,  untimely,  or  second  timely,  most  of  our  divorce 
lawyers  would  starve  to  death  before  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  If  I  were  asked  for  a  scientific  and  scholarly  rea- 
son for  the  extensive  number  of  divorces  in  this  country 
to-day  I  should  answer  without  hesitation — too  much  spoon- 
ing before  marriage  and  not  enough  after.  The  sweetheart 
of  yesterday  should  be  alive  in  the  husband  of  to-day.  He 
should  tell  his  wife  at  least  once  a  year  that  he  loves  her — 
the  wedding  anniversary  would  be  a  good  time — for  those 
wonderful  words,  "  I  love  you,"  will  start  two  hearts  to  beat- 
ing as  one,  and  the  frequent  repetition  of  such  words  will 
keep  them  beating  as  one. 

84 


You  can  always  tell  a  farmer — especially  if  you  have 
something  good  to  tell  him. 


I  have  known  farmers  to  get  their  cabbage  heads  to- 
gether, and  prick  up  their  corn  ears,  until  their  toes  would 
stick  out.  I  mean  their  pota-toes  and  toma-toes. 


Doctors  live  by  keeping  other  people  from  dying.  Of 
course,  when  the  people  die  anyhow — the  doctor  lives  any- 
how. His  business  seems  to  be  to  make  it  easy  for  us  to 
come  into  the  world,  and  easy  for  us  to  go  out. 


Lawyers  live  by  keeping  other  people  out  of  trouble,  or 
keeping  them  in  it.  There  are  lawyers  who  have  never  told 
a  lie,  and  there  are  lawyers  who  cannot  remember  when  they 
told  the  first  one. 


Teachers  live  by  making  lives.  A  teacher  is  always  the 
smartest  man  in  the  schoolhouse.  He  must  be  a  walking 
encyclopedia  of  the  latest  edition  in  the  greatest  number  of 
volumes — bound  in  calf. 


A  teacher's  life  is  not  without  a  humorous  side,  a  pathetic 
side,  and  that  side  of  a  boy's  trousers  known  throughout  all 
schooldom,  no  matter  how  dumb,  as  the  West  side — the  side 
the  little  son  sets  on. 


A  man  should  marry  when  he  is  young.  Nobody  likes  an 
old  bachelor  as  well  as  a  young  husband.  The  man  who 
thinks  he  can  save  more  money  by  himself  is  deceiving  some- 
body who  is  wearing  his  own  trousers.  But  the  fellow  who 
thinks  there  is  no  woman  in  his  community  good  enough  for 
him  simply  deceives  a — fool. 

85 


A  boy  slipped  up  behind  a  sleeping  cat  to  catch  it — and 
he  got  it.  Then  he  shouted  to  his  playmates :  "  Come  here, 
boys,  quick,  and  help  me  turn  this  cat  loose."  He  wanted 
to  be  turned  loose  from  the  cat.  Young  man,  do  not  stick 
to  a  bad  habit  so  long  that  you  cannot  turn  loose  of  it  be- 
cause it  won't  turn  loose  of  you. 


There  was  a  time  in  my  life  when  I  thought  I  could  write 
poetry.  Accordingly  I  allowed  my  hair  to  grow  for  several 
years  without  having  it  cut.  At  length  it  became  so  long 
that  it  was  regarded  as  a  public  nuisance.  Our  city  council 
held  a  protracted  meeting  and  appointed  a  committee  of 
eight  men  to  wait  on  me  and  inform  me  that  it  would  be 
necessary  for  me  to  have  my  hair  cut  or  I  would  get  myself 
into  undesirable  notoriety.  As  I  had  made  up  my  mind  on 
becoming  a  poet  I  refused  to  comply  with  such  a  request. 
The  men  picked  me  up  bodily  and  carried  me  to  the  nearest 
barber  shop,  and  I  want  to  say  to  you  that  it  required  four 
strong  men  to  hold  me  in  that  chair  while  the  ordeal  was  in 
progress.  It  made  me  mad.  I  said  I  never  would  write  any 
more  poetry.  That  you  may  know  what  the  world  of  litera- 
ture has  lost — or  gained — by  this  rash  act  of  our  city  council, 
I  will  read  a  few  of  my  poems. 


The  first  time  I  took  part  in  a  public  debate  I  opened  with 
this  remarkable  statement :  "  Mr.  President,  honorable 
judges,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  and  then  I  took  my  seat  with- 
out making  a  single  point.  But  now  I  can  take  part  in  any 
kind  of  a  debate,  and  talk  a  whole  hour — without  making  a 
single  point. 


Sing  in  the  morning,  sing  at  noon,  sing  at  night — sing  a 
song  of  sunshine,  practice  what  you  sing.  Of  course,  if  you 
cannot  carry  a  tune,  because  your  knowledge  in  music  is 

86 


limited — sing  anyway.  Sometimes  the  man  who  knows  the 
least  about  music  is  the  best  singer.  That  is  quite  true  about 
myself,  at  any  rate.  I  can  sing.  When  I  join  in  the  singing 
at  church  everybody  looks  at  me  with  wonder  and  astonish- 
ment. People  are  actually  surprised,  for  they  do  not  hear 
such  singing  every  day.  Why,  the  first  time  I  made  appli- 
cation to  join  a  fashionable  church  several  of  the  members 
objected  and  said  they  would  never  consent  to  a  man  like 
that  being  admitted  to  their  church  unless  he  would  sign  a 
pledge  never  to  join  in  the  singing.  According  to  an  old 
proverb,  he  who  sings  drives  away  sorrow,  but  when  I  sing 
I  drive  away  my  friends  in  sorrow." 


And  speaking  about  clothes — it  is  an  easy  matter  for  some 
men  to  love  their  neighbor  as  well  as  themselves  until  they 
are  dressed  up  in  a  new  suit — then  there  is  no  one  on  earth 
that  they  love  half  as  well  as  they  do  the  man  they  see  when 
they  stand  before  a  looking-glass.  A  new  suit  has  a  great 
effect  on  a  man.  I  shall  never  forget  the  first  time  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  buying  a  new  suit  all  by  myself.  I  found  out 
later,  however,  that  the  only  thing  new  in  that  bargain  was 
the  poor  boy  who  did  the  buying.  That  suit  had  been  in  that 
store  ever  since  Abraham  Lincoln  was  a  boy — but  I  didn't 
know  it.  The  Jew  who  sold  me  the  suit  did  not  mention 
that  to  me.  The  tags,  I  found,  had  been  sewed  on  much 
tighter  than  the  buttons.  When  I  called  on  my  sweetheart 
the  next  Sunday  I  did  more  or  less  sighing,  and  every  time 
I  sighed  a  sigh  I  sighed  a  button  from  my  vest. 

"  I  have  had  something  on  my  breast  a  long,  long  time," 
I  began,  "  that  I  must  tell  you  about.  I  can  wait  no  longer. 
You  must  know  what  it  is."  (Sigh.) 

A  button  tore  itself  from  my  vest  and  joyfully  rolled  over 
the  floor,  much  to  my  embarrassment.  But  I  was  not  to  be 
discouraged  by  a  little  thing  like  that. 

87 


"  You  must  have  known  it  all  along — I  love — I  love — 
(sigh) — Buttons."  Two  tore  themselves  away  that  time, 
one  hitting  her  on  the  chin.  But  I  was  not  to  be  discouraged 
by  a  little  thing  like  that. 

"  I  must  have  an  answer  now — oh,  please  do  not  hold  me 
in  suspense — will  you  be  my — (sigh)  buttons."  Not  a  single 
button  was  left. 

"  No,  no,  never !  "  she  cried,  "  not  if  I  am  to  look  after  all 
your  buttons." 

Thus  it  happened  that  I  remained  single  a  few  years 
longer.  It  is  often  necesary  for  a  man  to  make  a  big  failure 
in  order  that  he  may  wind  up  with  a  big  success. 


The  great  pride  which  springs  up  in  the  father  heart  of 
man  on  the  day  his  first  son  or  daughter  comes  into  the 
home  must  be  somewhat  akin  to  the  great  joy  which  welled 
up  in  the  father  heart  of  God  on  the  day  when  he  turned 
Adam  and  Eve  loose  in  the  Garden  of  Eden. 


If  a  father's  happiness  may  be  based  on  the  number  of 
children  he  has,  then  the  happines  of  God  must  be  so  great 
that  only  a  god  can  endure  it.  If  one  man  were  the  father 
of  all  the  people — all  the  children  in  this  audience,  the  happi- 
ness would  be  so  great  that  it  would  kill  him — or  hunger 
would. 


The  first  great  problem  which  confronts  the  happy  father 
and  mother  is  what  to  name  the  little  fellow,  altho  there  are 
various  sources  from  which  to  select  names — the  Bible,  the 
dictionary,  and  the  telephone  book. 


The  second  great  problem  that  confronts  the  happy  par- 
ents is  how  to  keep  from  loving  the  baby  more  than  each 
other. 


I  imagine  the  joy  of  the  grandfather  must  be  double  to 
that  of  the  father.  Man  is  now  in  the  evening  of  his  glory 
on  earth,  and  in  the  morning  of  his  glory  in  heaven.  The 
sun  is  never  so  beautiful  as  when  it  rises  in  the  morning, 
which  is  typical  of  man's  childhood,  when  he  rises  into  the 
world ;  nor  is  the  sun  ever  so  beautiful  as  when  it  sets  in 
the  evening,  which  is  typical  of  man's  second  childhood, 
when  he  sinks  out  of  the  world. 


The  greatest  and  most  progressive  member  of  the  human 
body  is  the  heart,  and  it  is  therefore  the  hardest  to  satisfy. 
In  the  beginning,  as  it  begins  to  grow,  it  is  content  to  love 
father  and  mother;  then  it  grows  a  little  larger  and  a  little 
wiser,  and  it  must  have  playmates  to  love;  again  it  grows 
larger  and  wiser,  and  must  have  a  teacher  and  friends  to 
love;  still  it  grows  larger  and  wiser,  and  is  satisfied  with 
nothing  less  than  a  sweetheart  to  love;  then  it  still  grows 
larger  and  wiser,  and  must  have  a  wife  to  love — when  it 
would  seem  that  the  heart  of  man  is  as  large  as  it  will  ever 
get,  and  that  he  would  be  content  forever ;  but  it  grows 
larger  and  wiser,  and  must  have  a  child  to  love  ;  still  it  grows 
larger  and  wiser,  and  longs  for  children  to  love ;  then  it 
grows  a  little  larger  and  a  little  wiser,  and  must  have  grand- 
children to  love;  and  then  it  grows  still  larger  and  still 
wiser,  and  must  have  Heaven  itself  to  love. 


This  country  is  going  dry,  and  as  it  is  going  dry  four 
classes  of  men  are  affected : 

First,  the  man  who  does  not  drink.  He  will  be  so  elated 
over  the  advent — or  the  fact  that  the  bad  went — that  he  will 

89 


cheer  so  loudly  that  the  man  in  the  moon  will  hear  him,  and 
he  will  toss  his  hat  up  in  the  air  so  high  that  it  will  never 
come  back,  and  he  will  be  obliged  to  go  down  town  and  buy 
another  on  credit.  This  man  can  always  get  credit.  Not  a 
store  in  the  city  that  would  not  be  glad  to  give  him  credit 
for  anything  from  a  baby-rattler  to  a  piano,  from  a  wheel- 
barrow to  an  automobile.  This  man  allows  his  wife  to 
handle  the  purse,  sometimes  known  as  the  pocket-book. 
Every  man  who  does  that  is  happy.  I  allow  my  wife  to 
handle  the  pocket-book  right  along.  No,  you  are  mistaken, 
that  isn't  why  we  are  so  poor.  That  is  why  we  haven't  gone 
to  the  poorhouse.  Young  man,  when  you  marry,  let  your 
wife  handle  the  pocket-book,  and  see  to  it  that  there  is 
always  something  in  the  pocket-book,  and  she  will  be  happy 
ever  after.  Young  lady,  do  not  marry  the  man  who  will 
not  allow  you  to  handle  the  pocket-book.  After  he  has 
turned  it  over  to  you,  keep  him  busy  keeping  it  filled — and 
he  will  be  happy  ever  after. 

Second,  it  affects  the  man  who  drinks  moderately,  and 
who  will  take  advantage  of  this  opportunity  to  quit  the 
habit.  He  tosses  up  his  hat  so  high  that  it  almost  touches 
the  ceiling,  and  cheers  so  loudly  that  his  wife  who  is  in  the 
kitchen  preparing  dinner  can  almost  hear  him. 

Third,  it  affects  the  man  who  is  a  heavy  drinker.  This 
man  claims  he  can  leave  it  alone,  but  he  does  not  let  it  alone 
except  when  he  is  asleep.  This  man  does  not  toss  up  his 
hat.  He  pulls  it  down  over  his  ears,  and  his  face  looks  like 
the  coast  of  Southern  Italy  after  an  earthquake.  This  man 
does  not  cheer.  He  grumbles  deep  down  in  the  cellar.  This 
man,  no  matter  how  much  he  drinks,  does  not  get  drunk. 
Yes,  he  can  drink  ten  breweries  dry  and  drown  in  a  barrel 
of  whisky,  and  still  be  sober.  This  man  has  no  credit.  Not 
a  store  in  town  that  would  credit  him  for  so  much  as  a  sec- 
ond-hand tooth-pick,  or  a  canceled  postage-stamp.  This 
man  does  not  allow  his  wife  to  handle  his  pocket-book — in 

90 


fact,  he  has  no  pocket-book,  but  carries  all  his  money  in  his 
trouser  pockets — fifteen  cents  in  one  pocket,  and  thirty-five 
in  the  other. 

Fourth,  it  affects  the  man  who  gets  drunk  every  time  he 
drinks,  and  who  drinks  every  time  the  saloons  open.  This 
poor  man  is  never  sober,  except  when  he  is  in  jail. 

HIS  OPTIMISM. 

My  prayer  has  been  answered,  and  I  am  an  optimist. 
When  I  see  men  and  women  living  in  ignorance,  finding  no 
enjoyment  in  literature  or  art,  caring  naught  for  intellec- 
tual food,  some  even  unable  to  read  or  write  their  names,  I 
grow  optimistic,  for  I  know  that  to  be  the  condition  from 
which  education  saves  their  posterity,  and  I  know  that  the 
day  is  coming  when  every  boy  and  every  girl  can  get  educa- 
tion, and  that  I  shall  have  a  part  in  hastening  that  day. 

When  I  see  people  neglecting  the  sanitation  of  their  sur- 
roundings, and  the  wholesomeness  of  their  food,  and  as  a 
result  become  puny  and  sickly,  and  fill  a  premature  grave,  I 
grow  optimistic  again,  for  I  know  that  to  be  the  state  from 
which  the  new  philosophy  of  health,  the  old  doctrine  of 
divine  healing,  the  timely  use  of  medicine  will  save  men  and 
women,  and  I  know  that  this  trinity  of  therapeutics  will 
soon  be  universally  used,  and  that  I  shall  have  a  part  in 
bringing  it  to  the  understanding  of  suffering  mankind. 

When  I  see  men  and  women  living  in  poverty,  their  faces 
pinched  with  hunger,  because  capital  for  one  reason  or  an- 
other cannot  or  will  not  give  them  enough  work,  or  enough 
wages  for  their  work,  I  grow  optimistic  once  more,  for  I 
know  there  is  bound  to  come  a  revolution  which  will  relieve 
them  of  this  slavery,  and  that  I  shall  have  a  part  in  bringing 
it  about. 

When  I  see  men  stagger  down  the  street  under  the  influ- 
ence of  liquor,  see  them  strike  a  loved  one,  see  them  hauled 
7  9i 


to  prison,  then  I  grow  optimistic  again,  for  I  know  that  to 
be  a  crime  which  Prohibition  will  prevent,  and  I  know  that 
Prohibition  is  on  its  way,  and  that  I  shall  have  a  part  in 
hastening  it  on. 

And,  lastly,  when  I  see  men  and  women  living  in  sin  and 
debauchery,  stealing  and  lying  and  murdering,  I  grow  opti- 
mistic as  before,  for  I  know  that  to  be  the  condition  from 
which  the  religion  of  Christ  will  save  them,  and  I  know  that 
I  may  have  a  part  in  bringing  that  religion  to  fallen 
humanity. 

And  such  is  my  optimism. 


92 


JOKES. 

WOULD  GO  NORTH. 

"  My  little  man,"  asked  an  elderly  lady  of  a  small  boy, 
"  when  you  are  grown,  which  way  will  you  go :  north,  east, 
south  or  west?" 

"  I  am  going  north,"  replied  the  boy. 

"And  why?" 

"  So  that  I'll  be  nearer  Santa  Glaus." 


There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  Little  Martha  was  told 
that  it  was  a  policeman.  She  hid,  her  knees  trembling.  The 
knocking  had  been  done  by  her  grandmother,  who  entered 
with  the  intelligence  that  the  policeman  had  left.  "  My !  " 
exclaimed  Martha,  "  but  my  legs  were  scared." 


Father — Are  you  ahead  in  school,  son? 
No,  pa.    The  whole  school  is  ahead  of  me.    I  sit  in  a  back 
seat. 


A  Yellow  Creek  bride,  when  asked  by  the  minister  to  what 
nationality  she  belonged,  replied,  "  My  pa  is  a  farmer." 

INDEED. 

"  I  don't  want  your  old  book,"  cried  the  irate  woman. 
"  I've  just  been  pestered  to  death  by  these  old  book  agents." 

"  Exactly !  Exactly !  "  excitedly  shouted  the  agent  as  he 
began  to  turn  the  leaves  of  his  book,  "  that  is  just  why  you 
need  this  book.  It  tells  you  how  to  get  rid  of  book  agents." 

93 


Did  your  husband  write  poetry  to  you  before  you  were 
married  ? 

Oh  yes,  but  he  has  apologized  since  we  were  married. 

THE  WAY  OF  THE  LIAR. 

Sam  Burke  was  known  as  the  biggest  liar  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. One  day  while  driving  toward  town  he  was  stopped 
by  Jim  Smith,  who  said: 

"  Sam,  let  me  have  one  of  your  big  lies." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,"  seriously  replied  Sam,  "  that  I 
really  haven't  time  to  tell  one.  I'm  just  on  my  way  to  town 
now  to  buy  a  coffin  for  old  man  Osborne's  wife  as  died  the 
other  day."  Whipping  up  his  horses,  Sam  disappeared. 

"  Well,  well,"  mused  the  astonished  neighbor,  "  that  was 
sudden,  sure.  Strange  that  we  didn't  even  know  that  Mrs. 
Osborne  was  sick." 

When  Jim  Smith  arrived  home  he  learned  that  Mrs.  Os- 
borne was  as  well  as  ever.  "  That  shows,"  remarked  Jim, 
"  that  a  fellow  can  tell  a  lie  when  he's  in  a  hurry,  but  when 
it  comes  to  doing  good  he  wants  scuds  of  time." 


A  negro  washer-woman  when  told  that  a  seven-year-old 
boy  could  read,  said :  "  U-m-ee !  You  say  that  dah  li'l  boy 
read  ?  He  sho'  wisely  'speri'nced  in  de  head." 

ON  THE  WRONG  LADDER. 

The  man  who  has  advice  to  give  away  met  a  young  man 
who  had  come  to  the  city  to  "  succeed." 

"  You  must  begin  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder  and  work 
up,"  he  said.  "  If  your  ambition  is  to  become  the  manager 
of  some  business,  begin  as  office  boy;  if  you  want  to  be 
president  of  some  railroad  company,  begin  as  flagman;  and 
so  on." 

94 


Meeting  the  youth  a  week  later  he  asked:  "Well,  my 
boy,  how  are  you  getting  on  ?  " 

"  Fine,  sir !  " 

"  Have  you  a  position  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I'm  janitor  of  the  largest  church  in  town !  " 

"  Jan-it-or !  Surely  you  could  have  done  better  than 
that." 

"  Well,  you  see,  I've  always  had  a  desire  to  become  a 
preacher  in  some  fine  church,  and  I  intend  to  work  my 
way  up." 


A  bachelor  wanted  a  wife.  There  were  two  ladies  down 
Yellow  Creek  eligible  for  matrimony,  so  far  as  age  was  con- 
cerned— a  Miss  Fish  and  a  Miss  Stone.  But  he  was  too 
bashful  to  propose,  and  solicited  the  aid  of  a  lady  friend. 
He  said: 

"  I  want  Miss  Fish.  Ask  her  first.  If  she  declines,  ask 
Miss  Stone." 

Miss  Fish  told  the  friend  that  she  would  not  have  the 
gentleman  if  his  teeth  were  made  out  of  silver,  his  finger 
nails  out  of  gold,  and  his  toe  nails  out  of  diamonds.  Miss 
Stone  replied,  "  Oh,  this  is  so  sudden — yes,  I'll  take  him !  " 

When  the  good  news  was  brought  to  the  bachelor  he  ob- 
jected: "That  isn't  fair.  It's  not  according  to  the  Bible. 
I  asked  for  a  '  Fish '  and  you  give  me  a  '  Stone '." 

EVERYBODY  REMAINED  BUT  FATHER. 

Daughter — Father  must've  been  offended  at  what  the 
evangelist  said  about  hypocrites  to-night.  He  left  the  hall 
in  the  middle  of  the  sermon. 

Mother — It  wasn't  that.  He  didn't  like  it  because  the 
preacher  said  he  believed  in  work  and  expected  to  work  him- 
self to  death.  You  know  when  he  shouted,  "  Give  me  the 
man  who  works.  I  can't  do  anything  with  a  lazy  devil ! " 
Well,  that's  when  father  left. 

95 


A  little  girl  who  had  just  been  to  a  fire  was  asked  if  the 
firemen  had  succeeded  in  extinguishing  the  flames.  "  Yes," 
she  replied,  "  but  the  smoke's  still  a  runnin'." 

WHY  HE  DIDN'T  GO  TO  SCHOOL. 

A  man  much  interested  in  poor  children  was  astonished 
one  afternoon  to  see  a  ragged  boy  wandering  carelessly 
around  in  the  mud.  His  socks  were  down  over  the  shoe 
tops,  and  the  mud  had  bespattered  his  bare  legs. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  school,  my  boy?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  Ma  won't  let  me,"  came  the  reply. 

"Why  not?" 

"  'Cause,  it's  too  muddy." 


The  fellow  who  thinks  he  is  great  is  not  as  repulsive  as 
the  fellow  who  thinks  the  other  fellow  ought  to  think  he  is 
great. 

DIDN'T  MEAN  TO  SUPPORT  HIM. 

"  May  I  give  you  one  of  my  cards  ?  I  am  running  for 
Sheriff. 

"  Is  that  so?  Well,  I  am  awful  glad  to  hear  it." 

"  Thank  you !  Thank  you !  " 

"  Yes,  I'd  just  like  to  see  how  bad  you  can  be  beat." 

THOT  PAPA  WOULD  BE  AFRAID. 

One  night  papa  started  to  go  up  stairs.  Little  Martha 
knew  it,  but  she  asked : 

"  Where  you  doin',  papa  ?  " 
"Up  stairs,  dear!" 
"Tan  I  do 'long?" 
"  No,  dear,  I  will  be  right  back." 
"  But,  papa,  won't  you  be  'fraid  by  yourself?  " 

96 


EDUCATION  IN  TRAVEL. 

"Have  you  ever  traveled  any?"  I  asked  of  Bill  Adkins. 

"  Yep,  been  way  out  west." 

"How  far?" 

"  Oh,  I  fergit  the  name  o'  the  place." 

"California?" 

"  That  don't  sound  like  it." 

"Oregon?" 

"  Nope." 

"  Did  you  cross  any  water  ?  " 

"  Yep,  crossed  the  bigges'  waters  I  ever  seed  in  my  life." 

"  Would  you  know  the  name  of  the  place  if  you  heard  it?  " 

"  Sure  pop." 

"Was  it  China?" 

"  Longer  name  'n  that." 

"  Maybe  it  was  Arkansaw  ?  " 

"  That's  it.    I  knew  I'd  know  it  when  I  heard  it." 


Uncle  Deb  drove  the  hogs  out  of  the  field  for  the  third 
time  that  morning,  declaring : 

"  De  good  Lawd  sho'  kno'  what  he  doin'  when  he  call  de 
hawgs  hawgs,  'cause  dey  sho'  'nuff  is  hawgs." 

WOULD  HAVE  BEEN  A  JOKE  ON  THE  COMPANY. 

Bill  Adkins  was  late  in  getting  his  ticket,  and  had  to  run 
to  catch  the  Yellow  Creek  Limited  to  four  miles  an  hour  as 
it  moved  away.  His  stopping  place  was  the  next  cross-road. 

"  Tickets !  "  demanded  the  conductor. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  declared  Bill  as  he  handed  it  over,  "  if 
I'd  a-had  to  a-walked  I  sure  wouldn't  a-given  up  this  ticket." 


The  biggest  trouble  with  most  people  who  know  nothing 
is  that  they  cannot  keep  from  telling  it. 

97 


ANOTHER  SHAM. 

"  You're  wearing  one  o'  them  cell'oid  collars,  ain't  ye  ?  " 

"  Yep." 

"  Then  why  do  ye  wear  a  hankerchief  'round  your  neck  ? 
It  can't  wilt  down  on  ye,  can  it  ?  " 

"  Nope,  but  it  makes  folks  think  I've  got  on  a  linen  collar, 
don't  ye  see." 


"  If  I  could  get  hold  of  the  fellow  that  wrote  this  book," 
said  the  disgusted  novel  reader,  as  he  finished  the  last  chap- 
ter, "  I  would  tie  the  thing  around  his  neck  with  an  iron 
chain,  make  him  walk  all  the  way  to  the  North  Pole,  make 
him  sit  on  top  of  the  pole,  and  then  force  him  to  eat  the  thing 
for  breakfast,  without  a  bit  of  pepper  or  salt." 

MR.  HEAD  AT  THE  POST-OFFICE. 

"  There  isn't  any  mail  for  Cal.  F.  Head,  now,  is  there  ? 
I've  been  writing  quite  a  number  of  letters,  and ." 

"  No,  there  ain't." 

"There  ain't!" 

"  I  said  there  ain't,  didn't  I?  " 

"  Now,  Postmaster,  lookee  here,  I  came  in  here  about  an 
hour  ago  an'  asked  you  if  there  was  any  mail,  and  you  said 
there  was  not,  that  the  mail  was  an  hour  late,  and  you  asked 
me  to  wait  for  it.  Now,  didn't  you  say  that  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  did." 

"  Of  course,  you  did.  I  can  prove  it  by  half  a  dozen  wit- 
nesses that  stood  right  there  and  heard  you.  Well  I  waited, 
fool  like,  believing  you  to  be  honest,  and  now  you've  got  the 
audacity  to  tell  me  that  there  isn't  any.  I  could  of  been 
home  this  hour  doing  important  work,  and  I  have  got  a  good 
notion  to  charge  you  up  with  it.  You're  no  more  fitten  to 
run  a  post-office  than  I  am.  I  ain't  doing  nothing  rash  this 
time,  but  you'd  better  not  fool  me  that  way  again." 

98 


"  You're  a  case." 

"  Yes,  and  a  suit-case  at  that." 

"How  so?" 

"  Because  everything  suits  me." 


"  If  any  of  you  ever  need  any  money,"  remarked  John 
Sharp  to  a  crowd  of  young  men  at  the  One-Hoss  Store, 
"  don't  hesitate  to  come  to  me — I'll  show  you  where  I  borrow 
mine." 

TOLD  THE  TRUTH. 

I  asked  Farmer  Bill  Jones  if  he  took  a  newspaper. 
"  Yes,  sir,"  he  smiled,  "  I  take  a  daily." 
"  Is  that  so  ?    One  of  the  large  dailies  ?  " 
"  Yes,  The  Woman's  National  Daily  of  St.  Louis." 
"  Do  you  read  it  much  ?  " 
"  Sure  thing.    I  read  all  there's  in  it." 
"  Do  you  ever  read  between  the  lines  ?  " 
"  Not  much.    Generally  read  it  between  the  mail  box  and 
the  house." 


"Will  you  engage  yourself  with  me?"  asked  the  bashful 
young  man. 

"  Excuse  me  a  moment,  please,"  plead  the  young  lady,  as 
she  stepped  into  the  adjoining  room. 

The  bashful  young  man  peeped  thru  the  key  hole — and 
what  do  you  suppose  he  saw  ?  The  young  lady  was  looking 
in  the  dictionary. 


"  You  do  not  mean  to  call  me  a  liar,  do  you  ?  " 
"  Not  at  all,  sir !    Not  at  all !    There  are  times  when  one 
should  refrain  from  telling  the  truth." 

99 


FINANCIALLY  SPEAKING. 

"  What's  that  you're  reading  there,  son  ?  " 

"  O,  just  a  novel,  mother." 

"  It  isn't  one  o'  those  dime  novels,  is  it  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed — it's  a  dollar  novel." 

"  What !    Well,  that's  ten  times  worse." 


"  I  see  from  the  local  items  in  the  paper  this  week  that 
you've  bought  a  set  of  Ridpath's  History  of  the  World," 
remarked  John  Sharp  as  he  greeted  Squire  Joines  on  the 
other  side  of  the  creek. 

"  Yes,  I  got  it  about  a  month  ago." 
"  Well,  do  you  find  it  interesting  reading  ?  " 
"  Oh,  I  haven't  read  any  in  it  as  yet.    Why,  I  haven't  got 
more  than  half  thru  looking  at  the  pictures." 


'Twilliam  Joines,  after  taking  a  correspondence  course  in 
advertising,  bought  a  copy  of  Yellow  Creek  Humor.  He 
read  it  from  beginning  to  the  end,  and  then  from  end  to  the 
beginning ;  and  then  writing  to  a  friend,  said :  "  Yellow 
Creek  Humor  is  great.  The  pessimist  will  fling  it  from  him 
in  disgust,  and  the  optimist  will  order  a  second  copy.  Order 
one  and  see  for  yourself." 


"  I  often  lie  awake  in  bed  until  after  twelve  o'clock,"  re- 
marked the  man. 

"  And  does  your  conscience  keep  you  awake  as  long  as 
that  ?  "  asked  the  woman. 

"  It  may  be  my  indigestion." 

"  That  would  still  be  a  kind  of  conscience." 

"What  kind  would  it  be,  then?" 

"  It  would  be  the  conscience  of  your  stomach." 

100 


VOTING  ON  YELLOW  CREEK. 

It  was  at  the  Democratic  Primary. 

"  Are  you  a  Democrat  ?  "  asked  the  officer,  the  rule  being 
that  none  but  real  Democrats  should  vote. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  young  voter.  "  But,"  he  added  as 
an  after-thought,  "  I  have  not  voted  the  Democratic  ticket 
all  of  my  life." 

"  How's  that  ?  "  demanded  the  officer,  thinking  the  young 
man  was  not  entitled  to  a  vote. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  answered  the  young  man.  "  I  was 
twenty-one  years  old  before  I  got  to  vote  at  all." 


"  I  understand  you  have  a  second-hand  automobile  for 
sale?" 

"  Yes." 

"  What  is  the  cost  per  fifty  miles  to  run  it  ?  " 

"  Depends  upon  what  a  good  team  will  cost.  If  the  price 
for  a  team  is  reasonable  it  ought  not  to  be  over  six  dollars." 


"  As  to  the  question  of  woman  suffrage,"  declared  the 
orator  in  an  extemporaneous  speech,  "  my  opinion  right  now 
is — I  can't  tell  what  it  will  be  after  I  see  my  wife — that 
women  should  not  vote.  If  a  woman  could  vote  she  could 
run  for  office — and  for  an  office  she  certainly  would  run. 
Well,  a  man  couldn't  run  for  President  of  the  United  States 
but  what  his  wife  would  want  to  get  up  and  run  for  vice- 
president  on  the  same  ticket." 


J.  D.  Rockefeller  may  be  looked  upon  as  an  extreme  econ- 
omist.   He  doesn't  even  spend  money  for  combs. 


When  the  pessimist  cannot  see  the  dark  side  he  will  not 
look  at  all. 


101 


BILL  ADKINS  BUYS  SOCKS. 

Mr.  Adkins  bought  a  pair  of  socks  at  the  One-Hoss  store 
— the  second  pair  he  had  been  known  to  buy.  They  were 
the  cheapest  pair  in  the  lot.  After  wearing  them  three  days 
a  hole  appeared  in  the  toe  of  the  right  side  of  the  sock  on 
the  right  foot.  Bill  brought  the  socks  back  the  next  day. 

"  Look  here,"  he  shouted  as  he  opened  the  door,  "  this 
old  sock's  got  a  big  hole  in  it  first  thing.  Will  you  take  'em 
back  an'  give  me  another  pair  ?  " 

"  Not  on  your  life,"  replied  the  astonished  store-keeper. 
"  I  couldn't  sell  socks  with  holes  in  'em,  could  I." 


Dan  is  station  agent  on  the  Yellow  Creek  Railroad. 
There  being  an  opening  for  a  lawyer  in  the  village  he  studied 
law  by  mail.  He  found  the  text-books  full  of  Latin  phrases, 
regarding  which  he  told  the  loungers  about  the  depot: 

"  I  read  the  Latin  an'  all.  I'm  gettin'  the  thing  thor- 
oughly." 

"  Do  you  understand  the  Latin  ?  "  they  asked. 

"  Of  course,"  admitted  Dan,  "  I  don't  understand  it,  but  I 
read  it  anyhow.  Half  the  fellers  readin'  law  don't  do  that." 


"  I  want  six  copies  of  your  book,"  writes  a  youth  from 
the  south,  "  so  that  I  can  give  one  to  my  beau,  one  to  my 
chum's  beau,  one  to  my  beau's  chum,  one  to  the  chum  of  my 
chum's  beau,  one  to  the  beau  of  my  beau's  chum,  and  one 
for  myself." 

THOUGHT  HE  WAS  IN  A  TRANCE. 

She — I  raylly  don't  think  the  man's  dead.  I  reckon  he's 
jis'  gone  off  in  one  o'  them  trance-actions." 

He — That  ain't  it.     It's  the  trance-portation. 

Perhaps  they  were  both  right.  It  was  the  transaction  of 
death  which  resulted  in  his  transportation  to  the  graveyard. 

102 


THE  YELLOW  CREEK  WALKING  CLUB. 

A  genuine  walking  club  is  the  latest  fad  on  Yellow  Creek. 

The  lean  walk  because  they  want  to  get  fat.  The  fat 
walk  because  they  want  to  become  lean.  The  poor  walk  be- 
cause they  cannot  ride.  But  the  rich  are  non-members. 

To  be  eligible  for  membership  in  this  remarkable  club  a 
man  must  have  a  reasonable  excuse  for  walking. 

Furthermore,  no  member  shall  take  a  long  step  where  a 
short  one  will  do  just  as  well. 

It  is  also  understood  that  it  is  more  dignified  to  walk  than 
to  ask  for  a  ride,  but  to  walk  after  being  offered  a  ride  is 
the  purest  kind  of  folly. 

NIGHT-WAKING. 

'Tis  good  to  sleep  the  nights 
The  wind  plays  one  weird  tune, 

With  little  drumming  raindrops 
On  the  window  in  my  room. 

Tho  oft  and  again  I  waken 

'Tis  never  with  misgiving, 
Since  all  the  while  I'm  not  asleep 

I  know  I  am  still  a-living. 

WHEN  THE  MOON  SHINES. 

Git  skeer'd  a  mighty  sight 
In  de  darkness  o'  de  night ; 
But  ah  git  brave  sumtime 
When  de  full  moon  hit  shine. 

Kin  see  de  spook  a-comin' 
In  time  t'  staht  t'  runnin' — 
Das  why  ah  gits  brave  sumtime 
When  de  full  moon  hit  shine. 
103 


MATTHEW  8:32. 

He  was  a  half-witted  lad,  full  of  foolish  sayings  and 
pranks.  One  of  a  crowd  of  college  gentlemen  reproved  him 
thus: 

"  Somebody  ought  to  cast  a  few  devils  out  of  you." 
"  That'd  be  kind  o'  hard  on  you  all,"  replied  the  lad,  "  for 
you  know  where  devils  go  when  they're  cast  out  of  a  fellow." 

BILL  ADKINS  AS  A  PATRIOT. 

"  Yep,"  remarked  Bill  to  the  loungers  about  the  One-Hoss 
Store,  "  that  was  about  th'  beatenest  Fourth  o'  July  I  ever 
seed.  I'd  every  pocket  full  of  fire-crackers,  an'  Roman 
candles,  an'  powder,  an'  somehow  in  lightin'  o'  my  pipe  th' 
whole  bizness  got  teched  off  an'  there  was  a  exploshion  that 
tore  every  smidgen  o'  clothes  right  off  my  back — an'  when 
they  come  t'  examine  me  they  found  bruises  an'  scratches 
in  th'  forms  o'  letters  spellin'  th'  beginnin'  o'  th'  Declaration 
o'  Independence." 

"  Sort  of  an  enthusiastic  Fourth  o'  Ju-liar,"  smiled  Squire 
Joines. 


If  you're  in  the  race  for  show, 
Some  will  cheer  you  as  you  go — 

Whether  slow  or  fast; 
If  you're  in  the  race  to  win 
Some  will  cheer  you  coming  in — 

Whether  first  or  last. 


"  People  hold  with  their  hands,  don't  they,"  asked  the 
young  debater.  "  Then  why  can't  they  hold  their  tongues 
with  their  hands  ?  " 

"  Because,"  replied  his  opponent,  "  when  their  tongue  is 
running  away  with  itself  the  hands  are  busily  engaged  mak- 
ing gestures." 

104 


GOOD  PHILOSOPHY. 

"  I  never  could  understand  why  the  world  pays  so  much 
attention  to  the  self-made  man,  but  doesn't  notice  him  while 
he  is  in  the  making." 

"  Well,  if  it  did,  the  fellow  probably  wouldn't  finish  the 
job." 


All  the  world  loves  the  lover — even  if  he  is  a  married  man, 
and  the  object  of  his  affections  is  his  wife. 


Lend  your  books  to  some  of  your  good  neighbors  and  they 
will  act  as  if  they  were  doing  you  a  favor — which  you  can 
return  by  coming  after  the  books  yourself  when  you  want 
them  back. 

TAKE  A  LOOK. 

Take  a  look  at  yourself,  my  boy, 

When  nobody  else  is  looking; 
Till  you  look  to  yourself,  my  boy, 

Like  to  others  you're  a-looking. 


Some  men  are  admired  for  what  they  know,  others  for 
what  they  want  to  know. 

SUNSHINE. 

Pull  de  curtains  up,  sah, 

'S  fur  's  de'll  go, 
An'  let  de  sun  shine  in 

An'  dance  'pon  de  flo'. 

Raise  de  winder  up,  sah, 

Jes'  high  's  yo'  please — 
Sunshine  hit  go  better, 

When  yo'  got  a  breeze. 
105 


ANOTHER  BURTSCHER  INTRODUCTION. 

Dr.  W.  M.  Anderson,  of  Nashville,  delivered  his  lecture, 
"  A  Secular  Sermon,"  to  the  students  of  Ruskin  Cave  Col- 
lege, Ruskin,  Tenn.,  March  26,  1909.  There  was  consid- 
erable speculation  among  the  students  as  to  what  a  secular 
sermon  might  be.  William  J.  Burtscher  introduced  Dr.  An- 
derson as  follows: 

"  Some  people — most  people — spend  the  first  half  of  their 
existence  in  tasting  the  apparent  sweets  of  life,  and  the  other 
half  in  trying  to  get  rid  of  the  taste. 

"  It  is  the  business  of  the  preacher  to  whet  the  appetite  of 
the  young  for  those  things  which  may  be  called  not  only 
sweet  but  meat.  If  he  succeeds  he  is  a  good  business  man. 
If  he  does  not,  he  is  still  a  good  business  man,  but  has  a  bad 
lot  of  customers. 

"  To  succeed  in  his  business,  the  preacher  must,  when  his 
members  begin  to  wander  into  the  folds  of  other  denomina- 
tions, preach  a  doctrinal  sermon ;  he  must,  when  his  hungry 
members  begin  to  get  so  lean  that  they  can  hardly  get  to 
church,  preach  a  spiritual  sermon ;  he  must,  when  the  whisky 
party  is  about  to  ride  into  power,  no  matter  how  rough  the 
roads,  preach  a  political  sermon — and  now  and  then,  when 
he  is  about  fifty  miles  from  home,  he  may  preach  a  secular 
sermon. 

"  This  is  the  kind  of  sermon  Dr.  W.  M.  Anderson  of  the 
First  Presbyterian  Church,  Nashville,  is  about  to  give  us 
to-night. 

"  I  have  heard  a  doctrinal  sermon — so  have  you.  I  have 
heard  a  spiritual  sermon — so  have  you.  I  have  heard  a  po- 
litical sermon — so  have  you.  But  I  have  never  heard  a  secu- 
lar sermon — have  you  ?  Well,  say,  don't  you  know  that  the 
sooner  I  quit,  the  sooner  we'll  get  to  hear  one." 


When  you  lend  a  helping  hand — let  it  be  gloveless. 

106 


Once  the  saloon  people  were  concerned  about  keeping  the 
Southern  Colonel  from  going  dry — but  now  they  are  inter- 
ested in  keeping  the  whole  South  from  going  dry. 


HOW  TO  READ  YELLOW  CREEK  HUMOR. 

First,  carefully  brush  your  teeth — never  smile  or  laugh 
with  unpolished  teeth. 

Next,  occupy  the  most  comfortable  rocker  in  the  house — 
and  open  the  book. 

Begin  with  page  one,  and  read  about  as  slowly  as  the 
water  in  Yellow  Creek  runs.  Never  open  a  book  in  the 
middle  and  attempt  to  read  both  ways. 

Such  passages  as  please  you,  underscore — such  as  do  not, 
score  any  way  you  please. 

Imagine  that  you  are  fishing  in  a  deep  creek  teeming  with 
minnows  of  wit  and  whales  of  humor.  When  there  is  a 
nibble,  smile.  When  there  is  a  sure  enough  bite,  laugh. 

When  you  have  finished,  tell  your  neighbors  about  the 
book — but  please  do  not  offer  to  loan  it  to  them.  Give  them 
my  address. 


107 


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